


All the Scars You Hide

by LibraryMage



Series: Break Your Chains [20]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autistic Character, Autistic Ezra Bridger, Autistic Sabine Wren, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mother-Son Relationship, Permanent Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-11 10:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13522578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryMage/pseuds/LibraryMage
Summary: Three Jedi went to Malachor.  Only two returned, but not without their scars.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> warning for: medical stuff (scarring; sedation); references to character death (named and unnamed); lots of guilt and self-loathing related to blaming oneself for bad things happening to friends/family

“Maybe I should wait another day,” Ezra said.

“Why?” Zeb asked.

Ezra shrugged, chewing slightly on the first knuckle of his thumb.

“Kid, it’s been four days,” Zeb said, a concerned look in his eyes as he observed Ezra’s pacing from where he sat on his bunk.  “You should see him.  Not to mention a little peace around here would be nice.”

Ezra stopped in his tracks, his hand dropping to his side and his shoulders slumping.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“That was a joke, kid,” Zeb said with a grimace.

“I should wait,” Ezra said again.

“You should go,” Zeb told him.  “He’ll probably be really happy to see you.”

A painful silence fell between them, Ezra’s guilt and sorrow filling the room.

“You know what I mean,” Zeb said, his voice much quieter.

Ezra nodded slowly.  In the four days since he and Kanan had returned from Malachor, Ezra had avoided talking about Kanan’s injury with anyone, and tried to avoid thinking about it whenever possible, but the smallest things made him feel like someone had shouted a reminder of it at him.

Zeb sighed and stood up, putting a hand on Ezra’s shoulder and pushing him toward the door.

“Go,” he said.  “Tell Kanan we’re all thinking about him.”

Ezra let Zeb push him out of their cabin.  As the door shut behind him, Ezra froze up in the hallway.  He wanted to turn around and run back into his room, climb up onto his bunk, and hide under his blanket, but he forced himself to take a step forward.  Zeb was right.  Ezra was the only one who hadn’t gone to see Kanan in the medbay yet.  Even Chopper had been there, if only to look after Hera.  It was time for him to face what had happened to his master.

As Ezra made his way off the ship and across the base, he tried to keep his mind off of where he was going, knowing that if he thought about it, he’d lose his nerve.  It wasn’t that difficult to find something else to think about.  Even as he got farther and farther away from the _Ghost_ , he could feel something pulling at him, like a line attached just under his heart that someone was trying to use to reel him in.  He knew it was the holocron.  Ever since they’d gotten back, it had been calling to him, like it wanted him to open it.  Normally, he tried so hard to ignore its pull, but now, he almost welcomed it.  At least focusing on it, focusing on resisting that call was something to think about other than where he was going.

When Ezra reached the medbay, he nearly turned back and ran away when he saw the sympathetic look the medic gave him when he asked where he could find Kanan.  As he approached the curtained-off area the medic had pointed him to, he felt like his heart had jumped up into his throat.

When he peered around the curtain, the first thing he saw was Hera, seated in a chair beside the bed.  The first two days that Kanan had been in the medbay, she hadn’t left his side until Sabine had talked her into going back to the _Ghost_ for some real sleep.  Since then, she still spent most of her free time -- which the other commanders were quietly shifting responsibilities to give her more of -- in the medbay, not wanting Kanan to be alone.

Hera turned her head and gave a weak, tired smile when she saw Ezra.

“He’s asleep,” she said.  “They’re keeping him pretty heavily sedated for now, but you can sit with him.”

Ezra stayed where he was, not wanting to take a single step closer.

“Does he know we’re here?” he asked.

“They said he probably doesn’t,” Hera said.  “But sometimes with Force sensitives, drugs can work a little different.”

She held out a hand, inviting Ezra to sit down next to her.  Ezra took a halting step forward before he froze up again.  As he stared at Kanan, unconscious, a fresh bandage over his eyes, he felt a roaring in his ears, like his brain was about to collapse in on itself.

Ezra turned on his heel and ran from the medbay, ignoring Hera as she called after him.  His feet carried him back to the _Ghost_ as if he was on autopilot.  He stopped short not far from the ship.  If he went back to the _Ghost_ , Zeb would ask him why he was back so soon, and Ezra couldn’t tell him.  He couldn’t just stay out here where someone might see him and ask him what was wrong, either.  He was too exposed here.  He had to get away.

Ezra turned away, running through potential isolated areas in his head.  The hangar was full of hiding spots, but it was also full of people who might stop him or tell one of the crew where he was if they came looking for him.  Seizing on the best option that came to mind, Ezra made his way to the west side of the base, to the boundary line marked by the sensors.  He barely registered it as his knees hit the ground, his hands shaking.

He couldn’t rid himself of the image of Kanan lying unconscious in the medbay, of Kanan on his knees and in pain with a burning scar across his face, of Kanan leaning on Hera for support as she led him to the medbay.  Kanan would never see again, and it was all his fault.  Maul had nearly killed Kanan, all because of him.

Ezra sat there, not crying, but still letting his grief pour out of him, filling the air around him, seeping into the ground.  He had caused this.  He’d nearly gotten Kanan killed, and for what?  A holocron that Kanan couldn’t open, that Ezra _shouldn’t_ open, and that might not even hold information that would help them in the first place?

And now here he was, on the verge of tears, barely able to keep himself together for more than a minute at a time, hiding like a scared little kid.  Unable to help Kanan.  Unable to do _anything._

Ezra looked up, his gaze drawn to the north.  From where he sat, he had a clear view of the grave markers.  They’d been fortunate enough not to lose many people since they’d built Chopper Base, but for the ones who’d died, and the ones they knew they’d lose before the fight was over, they’d set aside this place.  There were three markers already, and Ezra couldn’t stop himself from thinking that there so easily could have been four.

They hadn’t placed one for Ahsoka.  Hera had suggested it, but Rex, the closest thing Ahsoka had to family, had refused.  They didn’t know for sure, he’d said, and Ahsoka wouldn’t want them mourning her while there was still a job to be done.

But even without a marker for her, Ezra couldn’t help but think of Ahsoka when he saw those graves.  He’d failed her, too, just like he’d failed Kanan.  She was probably dead, her body buried under the destroyed temple, and Ezra had helped put her there.

He had to do better.  He had to do something, _anything_ to stop feeling so…small, helpless, like he was drowning on dry land.  What he _wanted_ to do was hunt Maul down and kill him.  He knew Maul was alive.  He could feel it and all he wanted to do was make that monster suffer.  But as much as he wanted it, the thought terrified him.  Still, he realized, if he couldn’t hurt Maul, there were plenty of others he _could_ hurt.

As Ezra got to his feet, drawing strength from that sense of purpose he desperately clung to, he froze.  It wasn’t that he’d never thought about it like that before.  In fact, Maul had encouraged it, telling Ezra his power lay in his drive to hurt the people who’d hurt him, who’d destroyed his life and his family.  But Kanan had tried to help him shift his perspective, teaching him to see his strength in his drive to _help_.  It had been a slow process, but Ezra had been getting better at looking at it that way.  And now…now his old way of thinking had come back so easily.  Before, Ezra might have dismissed it as just falling back into old patterns ingrained in his head, but after what had happened on Malachor, after he’d seen the change in his eyes and felt the change in his heart, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a sign that he was falling again.

 _What does it matter?_ he asked himself as he walked back toward the base.  What did any of it matter right now?  There was something he could do, a way he could help people.  He could worry about himself later.

* * *

 

When Hera returned to the _Ghost_ , Ezra was waiting for her in the galley.  Her shoulders were slumped, like she’d been carrying a heavy weight all day, but when she caught sight of Ezra, she gave him that same weak smile he’d seen in the medbay.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Ezra said.  “Are you?”

“I’ve been better,” she said as she sat down beside him.

“Is he --” Ezra couldn’t finish the question.

“Still sedated,” Hera said.  “It’s so he won't do anything to aggravate the wound.”

“I’m sorry I ran,” Ezra said, rocking lightly where he sat.  “I couldn’t -- seeing him like that, it was --”

“It’s okay,” Hera said, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “It’s really okay.”

“I -- can I ask you something?”  Ezra blurted the question out before he’d actually meant to ask it.

“Of course,” Hera said.

“I was wondering if --” Ezra paused, but forced himself to keep talking before he lost his nerve.  “I want to be back in the field.  I can’t just sit around here waiting for…whatever it is we’re waiting for.”

Ezra stared down at his hands, but he could feel Hera stiffen beside him.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” she said.  “It’s just so soon.”

“Please, Hera,” Ezra said, ashamed at how much his voice sounded like he was begging, but unable to stop it.  “You know I’m more use out there than stuck here.”

“Ezra…” Hera sighed.  “You shouldn’t just dive back in like nothing’s happened.  You just went through something traumatic and --”

“Like I’ve never been through something traumatic before,” Ezra said before he could bite back the sarcastic comment.

“I know,” Hera said, her voice surprisingly calm for the fear and frustration Ezra could feel radiating rom her.  “But now you can take the time to deal with it like you couldn’t before.”

“I can handle it,” Ezra said.

“Just let me think about it, okay?” Hera said.

“Okay,” Ezra mumbled, still not looking at her.  “Thank you.”

Hera slid her arm around Ezra’s shoulders and squeezed lightly.  Ezra hesitated for a moment before leaning into it and resting his head on Hera’s shoulder.

“It’ll be okay, Ezra,” she said.  “This isn’t the end.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: references to past child abuse and torture; hair cutting as a trauma/depression reaction; character death in dream

Ezra didn’t bring up the idea of being deployed on missions again.  He was afraid that if he pressed the issue, Hera would refuse.  He spent the next three days trying to take up as little space as possible, hiding his fear and anger from everyone, and especially from Hera.  If he seemed like he was okay, maybe she would let him back in the field.

A week after their return from Malachor, Ezra’s attempt at patience paid off when Hera pulled him aside.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” she asked, not needing to explain what she meant.

Ezra nodded quickly, his heart skipping a beat.

“I am,” he said, though something told him Hera wasn’t quite convinced.

“There’s a shipment of medical supplies going to an Imperial outpost in the Garel system,” Hera said.  “A small strike team is supposed to steal the supplies in transit, but one member was injured on her last mission and hasn’t been cleared yet, so I’m assigning you in her place.”

Even as she said it, Ezra could sense her hesitation.  She didn’t think he was ready for this, but given how thinly their resources were stretched, she probably didn’t have many options.  It didn’t matter.  If Ezra could do this job without anything going wrong -- well, _too_ wrong, anyway -- maybe Hera would stop worrying about him.

“The team leaves in two hours,” Hera said.  “Sabine will fill you in on the details.  She’s leading this one, so you listen to her, got it?”

“Thank you,” Ezra said.  “I know you weren’t sure, but I won't let you down, I promise.”

He turned away, intending to go looking for Sabine, but Hera stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Wait,” she said.  “Kanan’s being released from the medbay today.  It might not be until you’ve already gotten back, but I thought you should know.”

“Oh,” was all Ezra could manage to say as he shifted his gaze down to the floor.  He hadn’t even tried to see Kanan since that disastrous first attempt three days before.

“Gives you extra motivation to come back in one piece,” Hera said in an attempt at humor that almost worked.

“I will,” Ezra said.  “Promise.”

As she watched Ezra leave, Hera still couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made the right decision.  It had only been a week since Ezra had been forced to face the man who’d spent years abusing and torturing him and watched as he blinded Kanan.  Ezra usually did well in the field, his focus on the mission keeping everything else in his head at bay at least temporarily, but his triggers and reactions to them could be unpredictable and inconsistent.  And this time he wouldn’t have Kanan, who knew him better than anyone else, beside him to keep an eye on him.

But he would have Sabine, at least.  Sabine leading this job was the only reason Hera felt even a little bit comfortable assigning Ezra to it.  Hera could trust her to look after the squad, ensure the success of the op, and keep an eye on Ezra.

* * *

 

“You listening?” Sabine asked.

“Yeah.”

“So what’d I just say?”

“You, me, and Riss are the main strike force,” Ezra repeated, walking faster so he could keep up with Sabine’s quick pace as they crossed the hangar.  “Alayne’s the getaway pilot.  We hit the supplies while they’re being moved from the factory to the cargo ship.”

“Good,” Sabine said with a smile.

“Not like I haven’t done this before,” Ezra muttered.

“Hmm?”

“I said it’s not like I haven’t done this before,” Ezra said, raising his voice slightly so she’d hear it over the background noise of the hangar.

“I’m just checking,” Sabine said.  “You’ve been off lately, and it’s not like I can blame you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ezra said, trying and failing to keep his irritation at the idea of Sabine checking up on him out of his voice.  With Sabine’s not-so-subtle prodding, he was starting to wonder if the reason Hera had assigned him to this particular op was so that Sabine could watch him and report back.

“Hera asked you go look after me, didn’t she?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“It’s your first op since…everything,” Sabine said.  “She just wants me to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Ezra said again, more insistently, picking up his pace so he could brush past Sabine _._

“Hey --”

Ezra felt a hand come down on his shoulder and gasped as he wrenched himself away from the touch.  He turned around, stumbling back a few steps to see Sabine staring at him with an expression he couldn’t name but he _hated_ seeing directed at him.  Slowly, she lowered her hand and Ezra’s heartbeat, which he didn’t realize had sped up, returned to normal.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, staring down at the ground to avoid that look Sabine was giving him.

“Ezra, are you sure --”

“I’m fine,” he said.  “I swear, I’m fine.  I can do this.”

Sabine hesitated before she began walking again.  Ezra stayed beside her this time, not trying to pull ahead.

“I was gonna say cut Hera some slack, okay?” Sabine said.  “She’s just trying to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt.”

“I know,” Ezra said.  “I just hate it when people worry about me and act like I’m…I don’t know, like I’m made of glass.”

“I know,” Sabine said.  “I hate it, too.”

“Hera tell you Kanan’s getting out today?” Sabine asked after an awkward moment of silence, her voice softening as she changed the subject.

Ezra nodded.

“If you want to see him, we still have time before we have to leave,” Sabine said.

“I’ll see him when we get back,” Ezra said.

“It’s just if anything happens --”

“I’ll see him when we get back,” Ezra repeated.  “Even if he’s still in the medbay.  I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that one,” Sabine said.

* * *

 

The op had gone off without a hitch.  At least, no more of a hitch than usual.  They’d gotten into a firefight with the stormtroopers guarding the shipment, but none of their people had gotten hurt this time.  Sabine had scanned the supplies for trackers herself and, finding nothing, had ordered the pilot to make the jump back to Atollon.

“Hey,” she said, nudging Ezra as they landed.  “You get to help me take these to the medbay.”

“And I’m guessing dropping of supplies isn’t all we’re gonna be doing there,” Ezra said.

“That depends on whether or not Kanan’s there, doesn’t it?”

Something fluttered in Ezra’s stomach as he and Sabine pushed the crates toward the medbay.  They didn’t speak as they walked, which Ezra was more than fine with.  He didn’t think he’d be able to respond if Sabine said anything to him, not with how anxious he was at the possibility of seeing Kanan, of speaking to him for the first time since…

But when they got to the medbay, Kanan wasn’t there, and it was all Ezra could do not to sigh in relief.  That momentary relief quickly evaporated when he realized that if Kanan wasn’t there, there was only one other place he would be right now.

He and Sabine handed the supplies off to the medic, who Ezra barely listened to as she told Sabine that Hera had taken Kanan back to the _Ghost_ a little more than an hour ago.

“What are you going to tell Hera?” Ezra asked as they left the medbay.

“Who says I’m telling her anything?” Sabine asked.

“Sabine --”

“I’ll tell her you did fine,” Sabine said.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sabine said.  “Seriously, because if she knows we talked about this, she’ll probably worry that you talked me out of being honest.”

Ezra almost managed to laugh at that.

* * *

 

When they reached the _Ghost_ , Ezra hesitated for just a second before following Sabine up the ramp and into the cargo bay.

“We’re back!” Sabine called.  Ezra winced.  He could’ve done without the announcement.

Ezra followed Sabine up the ladder and stopped short when they entered the common area.  Kanan was there, seated beside Hera.  They had clearly been in the middle of a conversation that stopped just before Sabine had opened the door.  There were still bandages fixed over Kanan’s eyes, and he held himself like he didn’t trust his surroundings, like he thought the world around him could fall away at any second.

“Ezra?” Kanan asked, sensing Ezra’s presence through their bond.

“Yeah,” Ezra said.  “I’m here.  Are you --” the words died in his throat.  _Are you okay?_   How could he ask that?  Of course Kanan wasn’t okay.  He’d never be okay again.  _Nothing_ would ever be okay again.

“I told you I’d come back in one piece,” Ezra said, shifting his gaze to Hera.  He realized immediately that was probably the wrong thing to say, too.  Kanan had technically come back from Malachor in one piece, but he was far from unscathed.

“You did,” Hera said with a smile.  “Sabine can give me the full story later.”

Ezra shifted on his feet, his gaze dropping to the floor, then flitting up to the wall as he tried to look anywhere but at Kanan and Hera.  They were both acting so _calm_ and so normal, but everything that had happened hung in the air like a dense fog and Ezra didn’t understand how they could act like they didn’t feel it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come see you,” Ezra said.  “While you were in the medbay.  I tried, but…” he let the end of the sentence trail off.  He didn’t know if he could say it, that he’d been too scared to face the damage that he’d caused.  And why would he need to explain it, anyway?  Kanan knew that what had happened was Ezra’s fault.  He knew how weak Ezra could be when forced to face his failures.  He probably knew exactly why Ezra had never come to see him.

“I understand,” Kanan said, confirming Ezra’s suspicion.  Ezra suddenly felt like he or his mind or _something_ was about to collapse.

“I should…” he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the crew’s quarters, only to remember that Kanan couldn’t see it.  “I think I need to --”

He didn’t finish his excuse before he was gone.

“Did something happen?” Hera asked.

“Not until just now,” Sabine said, sitting down across from her and Kanan.  “He was fine during the op.”

She chose to skip what had happened before the op, when Ezra had panicked when she touched him.  Hera _had_ only asked her to keep an eye on him during the mission, after all.

“It’s me,” Kanan said.  “He can't face me after what happened.”

“He might just need a quiet day,” Sabine said quickly.  “You know how firefights can get.  I’ve got the noise cancellers in my helmet, but he doesn’t use anything to protect himself from that.”

“I hope you’re right,” Kanan said, though he didn’t seem that convinced.

* * *

 

Ezra and Zeb’s cabin was, thankfully, deserted when Ezra reached it.  Ezra shut the door behind him, not bothering to turn on the light as he braced his hands on the table, taking long, shaking breaths as he tried to calm himself down.  He was trying to convince Hera and everyone else that he was fine, and running away like that had only shown the opposite.

But seeing Kanan again, seeing him with the bandage still over his eyes, with that posture like he thought everything would shatter if he moved, feeling him reaching out through their bond, trying to connect…Ezra hadn’t been ready.  He should have seen Kanan while he was still unconscious in the medbay, he realized.  He would’ve been more prepared to see him when he came home.  But he’d been too much of a coward to look at the consequences of his actions on Malachor.

Ezra shut his eyes as he tried to calm himself down.  It was a mistake.  The darkness beneath his eyelids was like the crushing shadows of Malachor all over again.

 _This is what Kanan sees now_ , he thought.  _This is all Kanan sees and it’s **your fault**._

He could still feel it.  Maul’s hand gripping his hair, dragging him away from Kanan as Ezra struggled and scratched at his arm, but he couldn’t break free and Maul was going to take him away again and…

Ezra’s hand slid down to the table’s top drawer.  He barely even realized what he was doing until he’d opened it, pulled out Zeb’s knife, and was furiously cutting away at chunks of his hair.  He winced as the knife nicked the skin of his hand, but he kept going, hacking away at his hair in a random pattern until he heard the door open and he froze.

“Ezra, I’ve been knocking for --” Sabine stopped talking as she saw what he was doing.  Ezra didn’t move, didn’t say anything, like he was pinned in place by her gaze.

“You want to put that down for a second?” she asked, eyeing the knife.  Ezra dropped it immediately, letting it clatter to the floor with at sound that seemed loud enough to shatter glass.

For a moment, they just stood there, Sabine taking in the sight, and Ezra waiting for her to tell him that she had to talk to Hera about this, or worse, that _he_ had to talk to Hera about this.

“You know,” she finally said, a forced cheerful tone in her voice, “I could help you if you want.”

Ezra just stared at her, not quite able to process what he’d just heard.

“Come on,” Sabine said, stepping farther into the room and taking his hand before leading him out into the hall.

Ezra let her pull him along across the hall to her room, where she opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors.

“If you let me even it out for you, it’ll look less like an impulsive thing,” she said.  “But I’m gonna need to touch you from behind.”

Ezra nodded and Sabine smiled before stepping behind him.  For a moment, the room was dead quiet except for the sound of the scissors cutting through Ezra’s hair.  Ezra wanted to break the silence that grew more and more painful with each second that it dragged on, but he didn’t know how.  Luckily, Sabine beat him to it.

“First time I cut off my hair I was…” she paused for a second, “six, I think.  Maybe seven.  My mom walked in on me still holding the scissors, there was hair everywhere, I thought she was gonna flip.  But she just took the scissors and helped me even it out.  Said short hair suited me better anyway, and well…she was right.”

“What’d she do when you started dying it?” Ezra asked, grateful that Sabine had chosen to talk about something other than him and whether or not he was okay.

“Gave up on ever trying to tell me what to do with my body,” Sabine said with a laugh.  “Once I got to the Academy, I couldn’t dye it, though.  Against regulation.”

“Really?” Ezra said with a grin.  “The Empire had a problem with your self-expression?”

“I was surprised, too,” Sabine said sarcastically.  She took a step back and quickly ran her fingers through Ezra’s hair as she examined her work.

“I think you’re good,” she said.  “Had to cut it pretty short.  You really did a number on it.”

“Thanks,” Ezra said.

“You want to talk about why you did it?” Sabine asked.

Ezra shrugged.

“Was it Kanan?” Sabine asked.

Slowly, Ezra nodded.

“He could’ve died,” Ezra said, his voice shaking, “because of me.”

“Ezra --”

“I led Maul right to him,” Ezra said, cutting her off before she could say another word.  “I believed him when he said he’d let me go if I helped him.”

“It wasn’t your --”

Ezra slammed his hands down over his ears, shaking his head before Sabine could start trying to make excuses for him.

“Don’t,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Sabine said.  “I won't -- we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I can’t,” Ezra said.  “I just can’t.”

He quickly turned and let the room before Sabine could try to stop him.

* * *

 

_Ezra fought to pull his hands free as the binders locked around his wrists.  As he struggled against Maul’s grip, he was shoved back against the wall of the temple, Maul’s hand tightening over his throat._

_“Let him go!” Kanan shouted as he struggled to his feet._

_Maul released Ezra and turned to face Kanan, his lightsaber flashing through the air before one of the red blades was thrust through Kanan’s chest._

_“No!” Ezra screamed as Kanan fell back to the ground.  He ran forward, but before he could reach Kanan, Maul grabbed his arm, pulling him back._

_Ezra kept screaming and fighting to break free as Maul dragged him away.  As he watched, Kanan’s body was swallowed up by shadows.  It was just him and Maul now and Ezra was helpless to save himself._

_Come home, Ezra._

_Embrace who you truly are, son._

* * *

 

Ezra’s eyes snapped open.  He lay there, staring up at the dull gray ceiling above his bunk, terrified to close his eyes again.  He hadn’t been having exactly the same dream every night since Malachor, but they were all similar enough.  Kanan, hurt or killed.  Maul dragging him back into the darkness.  And Ezra powerless to stop any of it from happening.

In the corner of his eye, Ezra saw a faint light.  He turned his head to see the holocron, glowing softly in the darkness, calling out to him.

_Come home._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: injury (blaster wounds); unnamed character death; guilt-induced self-loathing; references to child abuse, torture, presumed character death (Ahsoka), and canonical character death (Ezra's parents)

“Have I ever mentioned how much I hate wearing cadet armor?” Sabine muttered, her irritated voice coming through the secure comm channel their stolen helmets were keyed to.

“Twice now since you put it on,” Ezra said.  “This _was_ your plan, you know.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Sabine said.  “Just hurry up and do your part so we can get out of here.”

“Working on it,” Ezra said, dragging himself forward through the cramped air duct.  “It’s not like there’s a map of the ventilation system.”

He peered through the next vent he reached and saw that he was looking down into the secure server room.  He couldn’t see anyone inside, but the vent only offered a limited view of the room.  He cast out a mental net, feeling for the presence of any sentients.  At the very edge of it, he felt Sabine in the corridor outside the room, her anxiety buzzing in the air around her as she kept herself on alert for anyone approaching her position, but apart from her, there was no one else around.  The advantages of breaking into a small regional ISB office, Ezra thought.  They had access to the same network other ISB agents did, but they were usually too understaffed to guard their servers.

“I’m here,” Ezra said.  “Just give me a minute.”

He removed the grating over the vent and carefully stuck his head into the room, quickly looking around for security cameras.  He spotted two and pulled himself back into the air duct, even though they hadn’t been pointed in his direction.  He reached out, picturing each one in his mind, seeing the plastic cracking, the wires ripping apart.  A snapping sound and a tiny _pop_ of small sparks of electricity told him the cameras were taken care of.  He poked his head out again and did another quick glance around the room for cameras in case there were any he’d missed.  Seeing none, he looked down, honing his focus in on the floor, feeling for anything that could indicate a pressure trigger that would set off an alarm.

“Come on,” Sabine hissed.

“Just hang on,” Ezra said.

He carefully lowered himself from the vent and dropped to the floor before crossing the room and opening the door to admit Sabine.

“Alright,” she said as the door slid shut behind her.  “My turn.  Let’s hope that intel was right.  If it’s not, I don’t have the time to search all these servers individually.”

She plugged her datapad into a port on one of the servers and began typing quickly while Ezra stayed by the door, listening and feeling for anyone approaching.  They stayed silent, each of them focused solely on their own task, until Sabine let out a quiet “yes!”

“I got it,” she said as she copied the records of upcoming prisoner transfers that they’d been sent to retrieve to her datapad.  “Just give me a second to make sure I’ve covered my tracks.”

“No time,” Ezra said.  “Someone’s coming.”

“This data’s useless to us if they can find out what we copied,” Sabine said.  She tapped a few commands into her datapad, her eyes moving quickly across the screen.

Ezra stepped back, moving as quietly as he could as he heard footsteps approaching the door.  His hand moved to his lightsaber as he waited.  For just a moment, he let himself think that maybe whoever was in the hallway was just walking past them.

And then there was a soft electronic _beep_ of a keycard being swiped and the door slid open.

The ISB agent standing in the doorway took a moment to process what she saw before her hand jumped to her blaster.

“Put down the datapad and your weapons and this won't have to get messy,” she said.

Ezra glanced over his shoulder at Sabine, who nodded as she disconnected her datapad from the server.

Ezra threw one hand out, pushing the ISB agent back, flinging her against the wall out in the hallway.  He and Sabine ran through the door and hung a left, racing down the hallway.  Ezra heard the sound of blaster fire from behind them and activated his lightsaber, turning quickly and deflecting the bolts back toward the ISB agent.  As she got to her feet, she spoke into a commlink.

“Security breach, south corridor,” she said.  “Full lockdown.  Intruders are --”

Her warning was cut off as Ezra deflected another blaster bolt directly into her chest.  She fell to the ground, the commlink slipping from her hand as she gasped for the last few breaths of air she would ever get.

They ran for the nearest exit, only to find their path blocked by two stormtroopers.  Sabine drew one of her blasters, shooting one of them in the leg as Ezra reached out through the Force and yanked the other one’s blaster from their hand before throwing them against the opposite wall.  As they ran through the door, Ezra heard the _crack_ of blaster fire again, followed by a shout of pain.  Sabine was still running, but there was a burning hole in the armor that covered her shoulder.  Ezra looked back to see that the one stormtrooper left standing had taken their fallen comrade’s weapon and was taking aim again.

Ezra fell back so he was behind Sabine and deflected a bolt that easily could have struck her head.  He reached out, gripping the trooper’s throat in his mind and slammed the soldier’s head against the wall.  They dropped to the ground, unconscious, as Ezra released them.

It wasn’t far to the stand of trees where they’d hidden the _Phantom_ , but by the time they reached it, Sabine was gasping for breath and slumped into a seat, exhausted, as Ezra fired up the engines and they lifted off.

A dull _thud_ echoed through the ship as Sabine pulled off her helmet and tossed it to the floor.

“This,” she gasped.  “Is exactly why I hate cadet armor.”

As they left the atmosphere, Ezra removed his own helmet and checked the scanners for Imperial ships that might track their trajectory and, seeing none, switched on the _Phantom’s_ autopilot and plugged in the coordinates for Atollon.  That business done, he turned away from the controls to see Sabine carefully removing the armor over her shoulder and peeling down her sleeve to get a closer look at the wound.  Ezra’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes locked onto the small charred hole in her arm.

“Do you need --”

“Doesn’t look like something we can patch up with the emergency medkit,” Sabine said, cutting off Ezra’s offer of help before he could give it.  “The bolt went through bone.”

She gasped as her fingers brushed too close to the wound.

“Actually,” she said, her teeth gritted against the pain, “get the medkit.”

Ezra quickly pulled the emergency medkit out of the storage hatch above the bank of seats Sabine sat on.  Sabine reached into it and pulled out a bottle, shaking a painkiller into her hand and dry swallowing it.

“I’ll be okay till we get to the base,” she said, though her voice was still strained as she tried to beat the pain through sheer stubbornness.

Ezra knew Sabine was just trying to act tough.  She was always like this when she got hurt.  But she was clearly in pain, and there was nothing he could do about it.  She was right.  The blaster bolt had mostly cauterized the wound it made as it tore through her skin, but she’d need care from the medics once they reached the base.  Even as Ezra reminded himself that Sabine’s injury wasn’t as serious and she’d be okay, he couldn’t help but think about the fact that just two weeks after Kanan had come home from the medbay, another member of the family would be admitted.

Ezra’s distress must have shown on his face, because Sabine lightly kicked his ankle.

“Hey,” she said.  “I’ll be fine.  This is nothing.”

* * *

 

By the time they docked with the _Ghost_ , Sabine’s skin had an almost-gray tinge to it and she was shaking slightly, but tried to suppress it and stay steady on her feet as she stepped off the _Phantom_.  Ezra stayed close behind her, trying not to seem like he was preparing to catch her if she fell or passed out.

Sabine grimaced when she saw that Hera was waiting for them.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said.

“Really?” Hera asked, her green eyes locking onto Sabine’s injured arm.  “Because it looks pretty bad.”

Her gaze shifted to Ezra, her eyes passing over him like she was scanning him.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.  Ezra shook his head.

“Alright,” Hera said, steadying Sabine with a hand on her uninjured shoulder, “I’ll walk you to the medbay.”

“I can manage,” Sabine said.

But Hera wasn’t about to take any argument and Sabine clearly knew that and finally relented.  As Hera led Sabine away, Ezra stared after them for a moment before retreating to his cabin.  Now that he was no longer at Sabine’s side, forcing himself to stay calm for the sake of not worrying her, a rush of emotion hit him like bricks being dropped onto his shoulders.

Sabine was putting up a strong front, but Ezra could feel her pain even if she would barely let it show on her face, and her injury could have been so much worse.  If he had just been a little slower to react, that second bolt could have hit her.  It could have _killed_ her.

If he hadn’t taken so long to get into the server room, they could have cleared out before that ISB agent ever found them.  If he’d just killed that stormtrooper, they wouldn’t have been able to shoot Sabine in the first place.  If he’d taken care of the agent before she called a lockdown…

Ezra sat quietly on his bunk, his mind swirling full of what-ifs that he didn’t want to think about but couldn’t let himself ignore.  In the space of three weeks, he had failed to protect two members of his family.  He and Sabine were supposed to have each other’s backs.  On a two-person mission with no backup, that was more vital than ever, and still he’d failed her.  He knew she’d survive her injury, but that didn’t make him feel any less guilty.  He should have done better.

_You can._

It was more of a feeling than a thought.  As it floated to the surface of his mind, he could see a faint red glow in the corner of his vision.  That persistent pull beneath his heart grew stronger, as if the holocron could somehow sense his thoughts and was offering him a solution, holding it out in front of him like water in front of someone dying of thirst.

Almost automatically, Ezra slid down from his bunk and picked up the holocron.  He stared into the glowing red light, as if he could stare the object down and force it to leave him alone.  But the holocron’s pull only grew stronger and stronger until, finally, Ezra tore his gaze away from it.

Ezra’s skin felt like something was crawling across it as he was suddenly overcome with restlessness and anxiety.  Clutching the holocron tightly in his hand, he left the room.

* * *

 

Ezra sat cross-legged on the ground at the northern boundary of the base, staring down at the holocron in his hands.

 _I should destroy it._  The thought was immediately followed by _I don’t know how._

The longer he stared at the holocron, the more his thoughts of destroying it began to slip away.  Maybe he could still find a way to use it to help him and Kanan.

 _Kanan wouldn’t want you to,_ he reminded himself.  _He wouldn’t want you to endanger yourself like that._

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Ezra found himself wondering what exactly made it more dangerous than anything else he did.  If he could use the knowledge contained in the holocron to destroy the Sith and defeat the Empire, wouldn’t it be worth the risk?  And if all he did was open it with no intention of returning to the dark side, what was the worst that could happen?  He’d given in to the darkness before, and he’d managed to walk away from it.

 _No, you didn’t,_ he thought, remembering the sight of his eyes in the mirror, the bright yellow spreading out like the roots of an invasive plant, choking out everything that was supposed to be there.  He remembered Kanan’s reluctance to look at him from the moment he saw the change, remembered the shock on Hera’s face when she’d seen it, remembered every time the other members of the crew looked surprised or fearful when they saw his face, before they’d begun to get used to it.

He couldn’t be trusted to open the holocron.  He couldn’t be trusted to resist the dark side.  He couldn’t be trusted, period.  If he was really worthy of the crew’s trust, especially Kanan’s, he would have gotten rid of the holocron the moment they’d returned to Atollon.  Buried it out in the desert somewhere, smashed it, burned it, _something._   But he’d kept it, just in case.  Just in case he decided he was strong enough or smart enough to resist it.  Just in case he felt helpless or powerless.

And that _was_ exactly how he felt.  He’d been powerless to stop Kanan from being blinded, Ahsoka from being killed, and Sabine from getting hurt.  Even with his years of training and all the power at his disposal, he’d been helpless when Maul had found him on Malachor.  Who would he be powerless to help next time?  And what would happen when -- not if, _when_ \-- Maul found him again?

He couldn’t keep feeling this way.  It was crushing him, like something growing tighter and tighter around his chest, slowly cutting off his air.  His family depended on him now more than ever.  Who knew if Kanan would ever be able to return to the field?  He couldn’t keep letting them down.  He couldn’t keep living in fear of the next time he would be forced to face Maul.  He had to be stronger.  He had to be smarter.  He had to be _better_.

He needed power.

_You have it.  Right here in your hand._

Ezra’s hand tightened around the holocron as he resisted the sudden urge to stand up and throw it across the boundary line.  Hadn’t he just decided he couldn’t be trusted to open it?

But as he stared down at the holocron, his certainty wavered.  Why couldn’t he be trusted?  That was -- he wasn’t sure who or what that was talking, but it wasn’t him.  He knew, deep down, that he could handle it.  And he knew what he needed if he was going to be strong enough to protect his family.

Ezra closed his eyes, reaching into the depths of his mind and calling forth the fear and anger that was haphazardly buried beneath the surface, just waiting for him to draw on it again.

He remembered the sight of Maul emerging from the shadows on Malachor.

Maul’s hand over his mouth as he dragged Ezra away from where Kanan and Ahsoka could hear him call for help.

Kanan’s scream as Maul’s lightsaber slashed across his face.

Ahsoka struggling to her feet as she turned to face Vader.

Maul's hand closing around the back of his neck, forcing him to look down at the man he'd been ordered to kill.

_Kill him, apprentice.  You've earned this._

His vision in the Jedi temple of Maul slashing his lightsaber through Kanan’s chest.

Feeling Maul's pain like it was his own as he told Ezra what Sidious had done to his brother.

Maul pinning him to the ground on Lothal, drugging him so he couldn’t run away.

The stormtrooper’s arms crushing him as he picked Ezra up and threw him to the ground outside of the house.

His parents’ voices, pleading with the troopers not to hurt Ezra.

_Don’t touch him!_

Kanan begging the Inquisitor to stop hurting him.

_He’s just a kid!_

The shadows of the Inquisitor’s mind pressing in on him, searching through his thoughts and feelings.

_You can’t keep lying to me forever._

The first time Maul had hit him, slapping him so hard across the face that he fell to the ground in tears.

_I'm sorry, Master._

The pain of the restraints around his wrists and ankles as he woke up on the ground in the woods.

_I can't run._

The look on Azadi’s face that told Ezra everything he needed to know.

_They’re dead, aren’t they?_

His anger grew inside him, like a flower that had just been waiting for someone to let it bloom.  His fear fed it, letting it grow stronger.  It flowed through his veins, humming across his skin, burning like fire where his hands touched the holocron.  He felt the weight gently lift out of his hands.

 _Yes,_ he thought as he slowly opened his eyes.  _Give me your knowledge.  Give me your power._

The secrets in the holocron were _his_ now, and he would use them to defeat the Empire, to destroy the Sith.  He’d fulfill the mission he and Maul had set out on so many years ago.  He would avenge his parents’ deaths.  Maybe then he would finally be free of Maul.  With the Sith destroyed, Maul wouldn’t have a reason to want Ezra at his side anymore, would he?  Maybe he would just let Ezra go.

And if he didn’t, Ezra would be powerful enough to destroy him, too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: joint trauma; Force-assisted mental invasion; self-harm

“I’m so _bored_.”

Sabine’s voice cut through the air, reaching Hera’s ears as she walked around the _Ghost_ to where the _Phantom_ was docked.

“You could always help me,” Ezra replied.  About fifteen minutes before, Hera had sent Ezra to clean carbon scoring off the _Phantom’s_ hull, a job that Sabine, with her arm still in a sling, had been expressly forbidden from doing.

“Screw it,” Sabine said after a moment of consideration.  “I’m coming up there.”

Hera picked up her pace, rounding the back of the ship just as Sabine was preparing to leap up onto the _Ghost’s_ hull to join Ezra.  She raced forward and threw her arms around Sabine’s waist, catching her and pulling her back before she could jump.

“Not happening,” she said as she released Sabine.  “Nothing strenuous, remember?  That includes climbing all over the hull of a ship.”

Sabine groaned in frustration, plucking at the edge of her sling with her good hand.  When Hera had first brought Sabine to the medbay, they’d both thought that the blaster bolt had missed her shoulder, only passing through her upper humerus.  Hera had thanked the stars that Sabine had the good sense not to try and move her arm when the medics said the bolt had _just_ hit the joint.  Only a centimeter higher and Sabine likely wouldn’t have regained full use of her arm.  As it was, she’d be wearing the sling for a few more days to give her shoulder a chance to heal.  Unless of course, she insisted on doing things that would only damage it more.

“I’ve got nothing to do,” Sabine said.

“Sure you do,” Hera said.  “It’s called resting.”

“Which I’ve been doing for a week now.”

“You’ll be doing it for a lot longer if you hurt yourself climbing up there before you’re ready,” Hera pointed out.  Sabine’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I’m done, anyway,” Ezra said, sliding down off the side of the ship and landing beside Sabine.  “Doesn’t take that long since you make one of us do this every time the _Phantom_ takes a hit.”

“And now you know why,” Hera said.

Her eyes quickly darted between the two of them.  Something about them seemed different.  Off, somehow.  It took her a second to realize exactly what it was.

“Stand back to back,” she said.

Sabine and Ezra exchanged a confused look, as if silently debating which of them was going to ask what she was up to.

“Why?” Sabine asked, drawing the word out slightly as she looked at Hera suspiciously.

“Humor me,” Hera said.

Sabine sighed and turned around, standing behind Ezra without about an inch of space between them.  Hera smiled slightly.  She’d been right.  She gently rested her hand on top of Sabine’s head, which came up less than an inch below Ezra’s.

“No!” Sabine gasped as she pulled away and turned around to see for herself.  “I was slouching!  It just makes me look shorter.”

“No, you weren’t,” Hera said with a smile as she lowered her hand.

Ezra smiled as he realized what had just happened and turned to face Sabine.

“Who’s the little sibling now?” he asked triumphantly.

Sabine’s glare disappeared, replaced by a wide grin.

“Sibling, huh?” she asked.

Ezra looked down, his embarrassment practically radiating from him as he realized what he’d said.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, his shoulders creeping up defensively.

“Of course,” Sabine said, her smile growing wider.  “Anything for my baby brother.”

“I’m leaving,” Ezra said.  “See you later, _little_ sister.”

Hera rolled her eyes as Sabine followed Ezra, poking him in the side as she reminded him that she’d still been on the crew longer than he had, which apparently meant something in whatever weird sibling competition they had going on.  Hera didn’t have any siblings herself, but growing up, she’d had friends and cousins who did, and half the time, Sabine and Ezra acted almost exactly like they had.

The way Sabine and Ezra could be, this particular line of bickering could draw out all day, but it was a nice change of pace from the dark cloud that had settled over the _Ghost_ for the past four weeks.

* * *

 

Three days later, Ezra found himself hiding out behind the base’s main hangar.  He’d been in the hangar earlier, searching for something he could do to be useful.  A couple of pilots had taken pity on him and asked for help with maintenance on their fighters, which mostly meant Ezra sitting on the ground beside them and handing them tools they asked for.  Still, it was better than being alone with his thoughts like he was now, and it was better than being at home.

Ezra had decided over the past week that spending time on the _Ghost_ was to be avoided whenever possible.  Most days, he would hide out at the boundary line, which no one liked to get too close to, or in some isolated spot on the base, studying the holocron, searching for knowledge or answers or… _something_.  On those days, he was sure that Kanan could sense the darkness clinging to him when he returned home, as if he’d walked up the ramp of the ship covered in dirt and tracking it behind him.

Today, Ezra had the holocron with him, but hadn’t retreated somewhere it was safe to open it.  Not yet, anyway.  That morning, he’d caught a glimpse of his eyes in the mirror.  The ring of yellow around his pupils had spread just enough for him to notice, and for one horrible moment, he’d caught himself thinking he was glad Kanan wouldn’t be able to see it.  He’d left the ship as quickly as he could, not saying a word to any member of the crew and keeping his head down so no one who might see him would notice his eyes.

Ezra gently kicked his heels against the crate he was sitting on.  It wasn’t like he had anyone to blame but himself.  He’d opened the holocron, and he didn’t regret it for a moment.  But sooner or later, Kanan would find out, and when he did, Ezra was sure that would be the end.

But what did it matter?  Ezra knew Kanan already wouldn’t want him as his student anymore.  Why would he?  He’d nearly gotten Kanan killed.  On Malachor, Kanan had seen the proof of Ezra embracing the darkness again.  And now, Ezra had betrayed him by opening the holocron.

Ezra was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear someone saying his name until Alayne, the Green Squadron pilot who’d been with him and Sabine on the supply mission, was beside him, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Bridger?”

Ezra pulled away from the pilot with a small, terrified shout, shoving her back and following through with a push in the Force.  Alayne stumbled back into the wall, her hands held up defensively.

Ezra jumped to his feet, his eyes wide as he realized who it was.

“I’m sorry!” he said.  “I didn’t hear you.  Are -- are you okay?”  His voice faltered as he looked the pilot over.  She didn’t _look_ injured.

“I’m fine,” Alayne said.  The look in her eyes made Ezra’s insides squirm.  He could barely stand it when a member of his own crew looked at him like that, concerned and almost pitying, and coming from a near-stranger, he hated it.

“I was just gonna tell you Rex was looking for you,” Alayne said slowly, the same cadence in her voice that people used when approaching frightened animals or calming down scared kids.

“Thanks,” Ezra said.

“Are you okay?” Alayne asked, that same painful tone still in her voice.  “Do you want me to find your dad?”

“My…oh,” Ezra said as he realized she was talking about Kanan.  “No!  It’s fine.  I’m fine.  Just…just forget you saw me back here, okay?  It’s fine.”

The words tumbled out, falling over each other in Ezra’s desperation to prevent Kanan from finding out about this.  He didn’t need to know.  No one had gotten hurt, and if he knew, he might start asking questions Ezra wasn’t prepared to answer.

Alayne didn’t seem convinced.  Ezra could feel her uncertainty, feel her consider finding Kanan or Hera and telling them anyway, feel her concern, her revolting pity, and her fear.  Fear that Ezra was going to actually hurt someone next time, that whatever had happened on that covert mission Ezra, Kanan, and Ahsoka had gone on had caused Ezra to snap, that Ezra was becoming dangerous.

“Just forget you saw me,” Ezra said again.  But this time, it wasn’t just words.  Instinctively, he latched on to Alayne’s mind.  He could feel the pilot’s thoughts and emotions clouding over, twisting and breaking under his will.  He couldn’t erase Alayne’s memory of seeing him, but he could confuse her, cloud her judgement, and overpower her instinct to tell Hera and Kanan what had happened, leaving just the faintest shadow of the memory behind.  As far as Ezra knew, even Maul couldn’t do this.  It was a skill he’d learned about from the holocron, and this was his first attempt at it.  As the pilot’s eyes glazed over briefly and her mind went temporarily blank, Ezra knew it had worked.

Before Alayne could fully come back to her senses, Ezra turned on his heel and ran.

* * *

 

Night had fallen, but Ezra still hadn’t returned to the _Ghost._   He wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway.  His mind was too full, too loud, and lying awake in his bunk would only make it worse.

He was once again at the northern edge of the base, with the holocron sitting in the sand in front of him.  He hadn’t been able to bring himself to open it.

He wanted to stop thinking about what he’d done, even for just a moment, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t deserve to let himself stop.  The feeling was still etched into his mind, of clouding Alayne’s memories and judgement and forcing her to forget she’d ever seen Ezra.  He’d done it without ever stopping to think about it.

It was just another addition to the ever-growing list of things Ezra had done wrong.  He couldn’t help but think back to that day on the _Ghost_ when Kanan had told him he couldn’t kill a disarmed stormtrooper, even if they were the enemy.  Then, his first instinct had been to kill, regardless of whether his victim could defend themselves.  Now, his first instinct was still to attack.

He didn’t deserve to forget.  He deserved…

He barely realized that he’d reached into his pocket until the lighter was in his hand.  Sabine had borrowed it from one of the pilots, forgotten to return it, and it had just made its way between most members of the crew.

Ezra pushed back his sleeve and flicked on the lighter, staring into the flame as it bit at his skin.  He gritted his teeth against the pain, but didn’t try to block it out.  He deserved the pain.  He deserved the punishment.  He deserved this and he would take it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: internalized ableism; guilt-induced self loathing; mention of presumed character death

_Searing pain burned across Kanan’s skin, worse than anything he’d ever felt before.  His knees hit the ground with a hard jolt.  He could feel Ezra kneeling down beside him, his hands shaking as he reached out toward him._

_“You’re coming with me, apprentice.”  Maul’s voice rang in Kanan’s ears as he towered over the two of them._

_Ezra’s hand tightened around Kanan’s for a moment, and Kanan could feel his hesitation, his confusion, his fear, cutting through Kanan’s own pain.  A knot formed in Kanan’s chest as Ezra’s hand slipped away from his and his padawan spoke in a hollow, defeated voice._

_“Yes, Master.”_

_“Ezra, no!” Kanan shouted, desperately reaching out toward Ezra._

_“I’m sorry, Kanan,” Ezra said as he stood up.  “But he was right.  I don’t belong with you.”_

_“Ezra!”_

* * *

 

The dream still echoed in Kanan’s head as he made his way through the ship, trailing his fingertips along the walls.  The _Ghost_ was easier for him to move around in than most other places around the base.  After so many years living on the ship, it was familiar to him, and the others, he noticed, were taking extra care not to leave things lying around that he might trip over.  He was grateful for it, even as he resented the need for it.

As he descended the ladder, he felt air circulating in the cargo bay, brushing across his skin, driving back the smell of his own burned flesh that still lingered from his dream.  He could sense Hera nearby, her warm, familiar presence like softly burning embers in his mind.  He could picture her, sitting on the lowered ramp, a cup of caf in her hands, her face thoughtful but not betraying anything that was going on in her head, and anger flared in his chest as he found himself desperately wishing he could just look at her.

_There’s nothing you can do,_ he told himself for what had to be the thousandth time.  His anger wouldn’t help him.  It wouldn’t help anyone _._   _He_ couldn’t help anyone.

“Hey,” Hera called to him.  Kanan crossed the cargo bay and sat down on the ramp beside her.  He felt her shift beside him and a second later, her hand was wrapped around his.

A familiar sound reached Kanan’s ears.  The distinctive _hum_ of a lightsaber slashing through the air.  Kanan’s hand tightened around Hera’s, his breath catching in his throat before he sensed Ezra’s presence in the distance.  He must have been training, running through forms, just like he and Kanan used to do together.

“He’s up early,” Kanan said.

“So are we,” Hera said.  A comfortable silence fell between them for a moment before she spoke again.

“I’m not sure how much he’s actually sleeping,” she said.

Kanan’s head turned in Ezra’s direction.  It wasn’t just the sound that drew his attention.  Ezra’s anger stretched out across the space between them, crackling in the air like lightning.

“Maybe you should be out there with him,” Hera said.  There was a deep sadness in her voice, as if the sight of Ezra out there alone was crushing her just as much as hearing it was crushing Kanan.

“I can barely trust myself to walk yet,” Kanan said bitterly.  “How can I trust myself to train with him?  How can I even teach him?  He doesn’t need me right now.”

“Yes, he does,” Hera said.  “We all do.”

And that, Kanan knew, was the problem.  Ezra needed _him._   Ezra needed his teacher.  Ezra needed someone who he could turn to for support who wouldn’t burden him with their own problems.  What Ezra didn’t need was a constant painful reminder of everything that had happened on Malachor.  Ezra needed everything Kanan used to be, and everything he didn’t know how to be anymore.

“I don’t know where to go from here,” Kanan said quietly.  “How do we get through something like this?”

“I don’t know,” Hera said, her thumb making a gentle circle across the back of his hand.  “But I know you can't get through anything by avoiding it.”

Her hand tightened around his before she released her grip and stood up.  Her hand passed gently over his shoulder as she returned to the _Ghost_ , leaving Kanan to listen to the sounds of Ezra’s lightsaber and the echoes of Hera’s words.  He knew she was right.  He would never be able to recover from being blinded, and Ezra would never be able to erase the memory of watching it happen.  Edging carefully around those facts wouldn't help either of them.  It would only drive them farther apart.

Kanan's nightmare floated to the surface of his mind again.  In his mind, it had felt so real as Ezra walked away from him, returned to Maul's side, called him "master."  That darkness that Ezra had fought so hard to escape had taken hold of him again on Malachor, and Kanan was the only person left in Ezra's life who really understood it, and who stood even the slightest chance of helping him fight it.  Assuming Ezra would even accept his help.

* * *

 

Ezra had sensed Kanan’s presence when he stepped off the ship, but his only acknowledgement of it had been to strengthen the walls he’d built up inside his head.  He’d been doing that almost every time he encountered Kanan these days, trying to keep his thoughts and emotions from spilling over where Kanan would feel them.  Kanan didn’t need that right now, and besides, now Ezra had too many secrets he didn’t want Kanan to know.

Ezra raised his blade to block a strike from an imaginary opponent, disengaged, and swung into an “attack.”  As he did so, he felt something gently nudging at the back of his mind.  He gasped and dropped his weapon, immediately recognizing the feeling.  Someone was reaching out to him through a bond in the Force, and he didn’t know who it was.  Ezra threw his strength behind his shields, like he was bracing his shoulder against a door to keep it closed.  In the distance, he saw Kanan flinch, and he felt an inexplicable surge of guilt, even though just moments ago he’d been determined to keep Kanan from sensing his emotions.

“Kanan?” he called, as if he’d only just realized his master was there.

As he made his way closer to the _Ghost_ , he felt a flutter of anxiety in his stomach, and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Kanan said.

“It’s okay,” Ezra said, his hands awkwardly twisting together.  “I was -- I’ve been trying to keep up with training since you’ve been…”

_Out of commission.  Recovering.  Adjusting.  Ignoring me._   Ezra crushed that last thought as soon as it appeared, reminding himself that _he_ was avoiding Kanan, and for a good reason.  But in a corner of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder why, if he was the one avoiding Kanan, he was suddenly so desperate for his attention.

“I noticed,” Kanan said.  Ezra couldn’t place the emotion in his voice, and not knowing sent a spike of anxiety through his chest.

“Hera says she doesn’t think you’ve been sleeping much,” Kanan said.

Ezra’s shoulders crept up defensively.

“I’m fine,” he said.  But he could tell Kanan wasn’t convinced.

“I know you’re going through a lot,” Kanan said.  “And none of this is easy, but you need to take care of yourself.”

“I said I’m fine,” Ezra snapped.  He brushed past Kanan, ignoring his master’s call for him to wait, and retreated back to the _Ghost._

Why was Kanan suddenly worrying if he was taking care of himself, after so many weeks of seeming to believe it when Ezra acted like he was fine?  Was it just because Hera had said something to him?  Or had he felt something when he’d touched Ezra’s mind?

Ezra froze as he pulled himself up off the ladder.  He suddenly wanted to run back to Kanan and say he _wasn’t_ fine and tell him everything that had happened over the past six weeks.  He wanted to tell Kanan how scared and confused and alone he felt and how sorry he was for everything he’d done.

Slowly, Ezra forced himself to take a step forward, and another, and another.  He wouldn’t force that burden onto Kanan, not when Kanan was trying to work through the loss of his sight, the death of his friend, and the knowledge that his apprentice had failed him.  Ezra could carry this on his own.  He had to.

* * *

 

Ezra’s footsteps echoed through the cargo bay as he practically ran away from Kanan.  For just a moment, they stopped, and Kanan felt a ripple in the Force, like a frustrated, furious scream echoing to him from a great distance away.  Kanan knew that if he called after Ezra again, told him to come talk to him, Ezra would only push him away, so all he could do was silently hope that Ezra would come back on his own.

He heard Ezra’s footsteps start up again, slower, more hesitant, and that hope flared brightly for a moment before Kanan realized the sound was moving deeper into the ship, away from him.

Kanan sighed and rested his head in one shaking hand.  He couldn’t even get Ezra to talk to him for two minutes, let alone get him to open up.  As Kanan sat there in the painful early-morning silence, he couldn’t help but think that he had let this go on for too long, and now it was too late.  What if the damage Maul had caused on Malachor was now too much to repair?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter has taken so long. I've been editing it for days now and I'm still not exactly happy with it, but this is how it turned out.
> 
> warning for: internalized stuff about "being useful"; reference to eye trauma; references to self-injury

Kanan didn’t know why he bothered to close his eyes as he cast out a mental net around him.  He wondered if he’d fall out of the habit of closing his eyes to focus as he got used to not being able to see.  He pushed that stray thought to the side as he breathed deeply, letting his mind empty of all thought, focusing only on what he felt around him.

In the months since his injury -- _since I went blind_ , he thought, forcing himself to acknowledge it, the pain and shock of it dulling each time he did -- he had limited his movements around the base.  No one had asked him for an explanation, thinking they understood why, so he hadn’t had to come up with an answer.  But out here, alone with only his thoughts, he was forced to be honest with himself, if no one else.  He was afraid.  He was afraid of what he might find out about his ability to move through his surroundings on his own.  He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to do it.  He was afraid of failing.

The _Ghost_ was one thing.  He had lived there for years.  He knew the ship so well, he didn’t _need_ to see.  The base was another thing entirely.  It was unfamiliar to him, and it didn’t help that when he last saw it, it was still being constructed.  If he couldn’t find his way around a non-hostile environment like Chopper Base, how could he ever leave the base for a mission?  How could he help the rebellion, help his _crew_ , if he was too afraid to trust something as basic as his sense of where he was?

Ironically, it was those fears that drove him to where he was now, sitting at the eastern edge of the base, not far from the _Ghost_.  He knew he’d never truly learn his way around the base until he physically walked to the parts of it that were unfamiliar, but he also knew he wasn’t ready.  Testing how much of the base and the people in it he could feel through the Force seemed like a reasonable middle ground.  At least in theory.  In practice, it was harder than it should have been.

Opening himself up to the Force hurt.  It was the pain of a recent wound that had only just begun to heal being suddenly and violently ripped open again.  Reaching out, feeling the presence of so many minds, was just another painful reminder that he couldn’t see any of the people they were attached to and never would again.  And a reminder of his blindness was also a reminder of how it had happened.

But it was also the relieved pain of a heavy weight being lifted out of his arms.  He’d spent half of his life surrounded by the Force; living and breathing it.  Reconnecting to it, even just for a moment, was like coming home.

He could feel the planet, its unique life force buzzing around him, humming through the air.  He could feel his bond with Ezra more clearly than he’d been able to in months.  He left it alone for now.

As Kanan hesitantly reached out, it was almost overwhelming, feeling hundreds of minds in groups and swarms across the base.  He honed his focus in on the smaller groups and lone individuals.  They would be easier for him to identify than people in large crowds.

His mind was immediately drawn to Hera’s soft glow in the Force.  She was with someone; someone familiar; a steady, subdued presence.  Commander Sato.  He reached out toward another corner of the base and found another familiar presence.  He examined it closer and almost recoiled when he recognized it as the medic who’d told him he’d never see again.  Kanan fought to hold onto his concentration as he remembered the crushing weight of those words -- _the damage is permanent._  He’d known.  Deep down, he’d known from the moment Maul’s lightsaber burned across his skin, but it was one thing to know and another to hear it.

As Kanan drew back into himself, suddenly feeling like that heavy weight had been dropped back into his hands, a surge of pain overcame him.  It was powerful enough that it would have shattered his focus if Kanan hadn’t known instinctively that he should follow it to its source.

Ezra.  Ezra was in pain.  So much pain, Kanan felt like his chest was being crushed as something wrapped around it, squeezing tighter and tighter, barbs sinking into him, tearing through him.

The pain eased abruptly, as if a glass wall had been placed between him and the source of it.  Ezra was trying to shield himself and block Kanan out.

Kanan stumbled to his feet, feeling like the air was being ripped from his lungs.  Ezra was on the north end of the base.  He’d sensed it before Ezra had blocked him.  Kanan took a step forward, but hesitated.  What if finding Ezra and trying to talk to him only made things worse again?

Kanan quickly shoved that doubt aside.  It hadn’t just been emotional pain that he’d felt.  It had been physical.  Ezra was hurt and if he was as far toward the edge of the perimeter as Kanan thought he was, then there was a chance he wouldn’t be found for a while.

Kanan followed the boundary line, guided by the faint beeping sound emitted by the sensors.  Even with the sound as a point of reference, his frustration grew with each hesitant, halting step he took.  He knew he was still adjusting, that no one could get used to this in just three months, but he didn’t have _time._  They were at war with the Empire _now._  He needed to be able to help _now._  As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he could practically hear his master’s voice in his head, telling him to _be patient, getting angry at yourself won't accomplish anything._

By the time he reached the northern boundary, his mind was…not _clear_ , but his focus on finding Ezra, on making sure he was okay, had pushed his own fear and anger and doubt to the side.  He could feel Ezra’s presence stronger than before, even with Ezra trying to block him out.  Waves of pain emanated from him, crashing over Kanan.

“Ezra?” he called.

He heard a quiet gasp, as if Ezra hadn’t realized he was there.

“Kanan?”  There was a slight tremor to Ezra’s voice.  He sounded almost afraid.  “What are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you,” Kanan said.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Ezra said.  That fearful tremor in his voice was gone, replaced by a forced casualness only ever used by someone trying to hide something.

Kanan took a couple steps forward until he was sure he was beside Ezra, and sat down in the sand next to him.  For just a second, he wondered if he’d been wrong, and what he’d felt hadn’t been what he thought it was, or that it hadn’t come from Ezra.  But there was no mistaking that fear in Ezra’s voice.  Something was wrong, even if Ezra wasn’t injured or in danger.

“I felt something in the Force,” Kanan said.  “Like you were in pain.”

“I’m not,” Ezra said quickly.  “I wasn’t.  Nothing happened.”

An awkward, painful silence fell between them as Kanan tried to figure out what to say.  Even as his doubts crept up again, whispering that maybe he’d just imagined it, he knew Ezra was holding something back.

“Ezra,” he finally said, his voice gentle, “you can talk to me about --”

“I have to go,” Ezra said abruptly, the sand shifting beneath his feet as he stood up.  “I just remembered I told Sabine I’d help her with something.”

Kanan knew it was a lie, but Ezra didn’t seem to care if he believed it or not.  He turned on his heel and walked away just slowly enough that he wasn’t technically running.

“Ezra, wait,” Kanan called after him.  But Ezra ignored him.

As his apprentice walked away, Kanan could feel something hanging in the air, like a dense fog.  An echo of darkness that Ezra had left in his wake.

* * *

 

Ezra’s shoulders tensed as Kanan sat down beside him.  Even knowing that Kanan couldn’t possibly see it, he instinctively tugged at the edge of his left sleeve, making sure it was fully covering his arm.  He winced as the cloth pulled tightly over the fresh burns.

“I felt something in the Force,” Kanan said.  Ezra flinched, his eyes drawn to the Sith holocron on the ground beside him.  “Like you were in pain.”

“I’m not,” Ezra said, his heart hammering as he wondered if Kanan could sense the holocron, too.  “I wasn’t.  Nothing happened.”

Kanan said nothing and Ezra couldn’t tell if his master believed him or not.  The silence grew more and more uncomfortable as Ezra felt a quiet, steady desperation growing in his chest.  Somewhere, deep down, he wanted to tell Kanan everything, and with each passing second, Ezra could feel himself growing closer and closer to letting it all spill out.  His fear, his anger, his feeling that he was drowning.  His chest felt like it would burst trying to contain it all, but he clung to it, holding it in.  Kanan had more important things to worry about than him right now.  He couldn’t…

“Ezra.”  Kanan’s voice broke the chain reaction in Ezra’s mind and it was all Ezra could do not to sigh in relief.  As he continued to speak, Kanan’s voice was hesitant, like he was afraid Ezra would break at the sound of his words.

“You can talk to me about --”

Something inside Ezra felt like it had snapped in two.  He stood up quickly, mumbling some excuse about helping Sabine and walking away without bothering to stick around and find out if Kanan believed it.  His grip on the holocron was tight enough that he could feel the sharp edges digging into his skin.

Just seconds before, he’d been on the verge of telling Kanan everything, but as soon as Kanan had started to say something about it, those feelings had evaporated, replaced by anger so powerful that Ezra could barely think.  For three months, Kanan had been fine with keeping his distance, and now, out of nowhere, he wanted Ezra to think he could just talk to him about anything?

He didn’t need Kanan.  He’d survived on his own for two years with no one to lean on, and even after that, it wasn’t like Maul had been an emotionally nurturing caretaker.  He could handle this alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: references to self-injury; slightly coerced discussion of self-injury; references to past child abuse; non-explicit allusion to suicide

Ezra was just pulling his shirt over his head when the door opened and Zeb entered their cabin.  He quickly tugged his sleeves down, making sure his arms were fully covered.  His shoulders crept up toward his ears as he silently hoped Zeb hadn’t seen them.

“Hey,” Ezra said, wincing as he realized the pitch of his voice was just slightly higher than normal.  Zeb had once said that was his tell.  “I was just leaving.”

“Wait,” Zeb said, catching Ezra’s shoulder as Ezra tried to walk past him.  “What happened to your arms?”

“Nothing,” Ezra said, pulling away from Zeb’s touch and taking a step back.

“I saw those marks, kid,” Zeb said.

Ezra glared down at the floor, his hands bunching into fists at his sides as he tried to determine whether Zeb would stop him again if he just bolted for the door.  Slowly, as if he was afraid Ezra would do just that, as if he somehow _knew_ what he was about to see, Zeb took Ezra’s hand and pushed his sleeve back with a gentleness that made Ezra want to run.  Zeb had to know something was wrong, otherwise he wouldn’t be acting so concerned.

“Karabast, kid,” Zeb muttered.  Ezra didn’t need to look to know what Zeb was seeing.  Over the past two and a half months, the skin on both his arms had become covered with burns.  Some had healed into scars, but others were still fresh from just the day before.

“What happened?”  Zeb’s voice was soft in a way that Ezra had only ever heard once before, the day he and Kanan had come back from Malachor, and Ezra was sure Zeb already knew the answer.

Ezra wrenched his hand away from Zeb’s, furious resentment at his friend for interfering building up in his chest.

“You know what Maul used to do to me,” Ezra muttered.  “How is this a surprise?”

“We’ve been sharing a room for more than two years now,” Zeb said.  “I’ve never seen those before.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Ezra snapped, glaring up at Zeb.  “I -- I did it, okay?”

“How long?” Zeb asked.

Ezra crossed his arms and looked away again as he tasted something bitter in the back of his throat.

“Ezra --”

“Couple months,” Ezra muttered, trying to make his resentment as clear as possible in his voice.  He didn’t want to answer Zeb’s questions and he hated the fact that Zeb was even asking them, but he knew if he didn’t answer, he’d have no chance of convincing Zeb not to tell Kanan and Hera what he’d seen.

“What have you been using?” Zeb asked.

Ezra slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the lighter, holding it out toward Zeb without looking at him.  Zeb took it from his hand.

“You should talk to Kanan and Hera about this,” he said.

“No!” Ezra said, frantically looking up at his friend, his heart seeming to triple in speed and leap up into his throat.  “Zeb, I can’t.  Please don’t tell them.”

“Ezra, they --”

“Please!”

Ezra could feel Zeb’s hesitation, like he was about to argue.  It quickly faded and Ezra was immediately disgusted with himself as he realized how desperate he must seem.

“I’m trying to stop,” Ezra said.  It was a lie, but he was ready to do anything to stop Kanan and Hera from finding out.  “Please don’t tell them.”

“I won't,” Zeb said.  His hand closed around the lighter.  “But I’m getting rid of this.  And if you feel like hurting yourself again, I want you to come find me.”

Ezra nodded.

“If you can't find me, find Sabine,” Zeb said.

Ezra’s shoulders crept up again as he shrank in on himself.

“She won't tell anyone if you ask her not to,” Zeb said.

“I didn’t even want _you_ to know,” Ezra muttered.  He didn’t want to tell Sabine any more than he wanted to tell Kanan and Hera.  And no matter what Zeb said, if either of them thought he was really in trouble, they would tell.  Sabine knowing just meant one more person he’d have to talk down if it ever came to that.

“You trust her, don’t you?” Zeb asked.

Ezra nodded.

“Can I go now?” he asked.  He didn’t wait for an answer before pushing past Zeb.  As he reached the door, he paused.

“Thanks for not asking why,” he said.

“I know why,” Zeb said.

Ezra left the room without responding.  He knew why Zeb _thought_ he was doing this, but Zeb didn’t know the whole truth, and Ezra wasn't about to tell him.  What Zeb already knew weighed on Ezra like bricks on his shoulders.  If Ezra told him about the holocron or about what he’d done, or if Zeb figured it out on his own, he’d tell Kanan and Hera, and Ezra couldn’t let that happen.

Ezra quickly made his way through the ship, trying to make it through the cargo bay and out of the main hatch before anyone else spotted him.  As he trudged down the ramp, he self-consciously tugged at his sleeves, even though there was no one around to see his scars.

As he walked aimlessly away from the _Ghost_ , no real destination in mind, just trying to put as much distance between himself and the ship as possible, he heard a familiar _hum_ reverberating in the air.  He looked back to see Kanan, his lightsaber in his hand for the first time that Ezra had seen since Malachor.  He was running through a basic kata, moving slowly, so slowly it was almost painful for Ezra to watch.  He seemed so unsure of every movement he made.  It reminded Ezra of the early days when he had first been learning how to wield his lightsaber.  He must have looked the same way; unsure of himself, hesitant, scared.

As Ezra watched, his guilt, barely hidden beneath the surface, crept up again.  This shouldn’t be happening.  And it wouldn't be if it hadn’t been for him.

Kanan switched his weapon off, dropping it to the ground in a moment of anger and frustration that echoed through the air.  Ezra felt like something inside him was cracking in two.  He turned away and kept walking, as if he could outrun the crushing guilt that tried to weigh him down.

* * *

It was four days before Ezra finally came to Zeb, but Zeb was certain the kid had hurt himself again without saying anything.  Just the day after he’d discovered Ezra’s scars, he’d smelled blood on the kid, but hadn’t seen any visible injuries to explain it.  He hadn’t said anything at the time, not wanting to corner Ezra about it, but had spent the next three days regretting that decision.

He and Sabine had spent the day helping some of the pilots with routine maintenance on their fighters.  Ezra had been…well, he couldn’t really be sure what the kid had been doing, but when Zeb returned to their cabin, he found Ezra sitting on his bunk.  As Zeb entered the room, Ezra opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but quickly seemed to change his mind.

“Everything okay, kid?” Zeb asked, already predicting Ezra’s answer.

“I --” Ezra said, his voice unusually quiet, even for him.  “You told me to -- if I wanted to --”

“Kid, what part of “come find me” did you miss?” Zeb asked.

“You were doing something important,” Ezra said.  “And I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

Zeb would give the kid credit for that, at least.  He’d been half expecting Ezra to ignore what he’d said altogether until he did something that forced Zeb to bring Kanan and Hera into this.  Common sense said he should have already, but after everything he’d been through, Ezra at least deserved to tell them when _he_ was ready.

“Come with me,” Zeb said.

Ezra slid down from his bunk and trailed behind Zeb as his friend led him out of their cabin and off the _Ghost_ altogether.  He was silent for a while before he spoke up.

“Where are we going?” he asked.  He stopped in his tracks as he realized what the answer might be.

“You’re not taking me to medical, are you?” he asked.

“If I was, we’d be going the wrong way,” Zeb pointed out.

“Right,” Ezra said.  Still, it took a moment before he was able to make himself start moving again.

“You should see a medic, though,” Zeb said.  “Just to check on those burns.  Say you got them training or something.”

“They’re not that bad,” Ezra said.

“No offense, kid,” Zeb said, “but you’ve got a pretty skewed idea of what a bad injury is.”

“I’ve had worse,” Ezra said with a shrug.  “You want to tell me what we’re doing out here?”

“Distracting you,” Zeb said, drawing a small blaster and holding it out to Ezra.  “Target practice.”

He nudged Ezra with his elbow to get him to turn around and face a stand of rocks that a lot of people on the base used as targets.  Ezra glanced at the weapon in his hand.  It was a modified blaster that could only fire stun bolts.  Not the sort of thing anyone on the  _Ghost_ crew normally carried.  Ezra's heart skipped a beat as he realized what Zeb must be worried he wanted to do to himself.

“You use that lightsaber so much I figure your blaster skills could use some work,” he said.

Ezra grinned, took aim, and hit one of the boulders dead center, right over the scorch marks left by other blasters.

“You got lucky,” Zeb said.

“Sure.”

The two of them fell into an easy silence, shooting at the stones, not needing to talk.  Ezra was glad that Zeb didn’t try to comfort him or figure out why he wanted to hurt himself.  He hadn’t been ready for that conversation when Zeb had found out, and he certainly wasn’t ready now.  Ezra still wished no one else knew, but if another member of the crew _had_ to have found out, at least it was Zeb.  Any of the others would have pushed for details in their own way, but Zeb was fine just letting it be.

As they stood beside each other, the silence only broken by the sound of their blasters, Ezra found that, surprisingly, Zeb’s distraction tactic was working.  It was almost meditative.  Or at least it was until Zeb started talking again.

“You really should talk to Kanan,” he said.

“That why you brought me out here?” Ezra asked bitterly.  “So you could talk me into it?”

“No,” Zeb said.  “Still think you should, though.”

“I can’t,” Ezra said.  His hands tightened around the blaster’s grip enough that his hand jerked to the side, throwing off his aim.

“Look, kid,” Zeb said, lowering his weapon and turning to face Ezra, “I wasn’t there.  I don’t know what you went through.  But if anyone would understand, it’s Kanan.”

“I can’t talk to him about this!” Ezra said, dropping his own weapon as he rounded on Zeb.  “He just went blind!  He has more important things to worry about than me.”

“He’d want to know,” Zeb said.

“I can’t tell him,” Ezra said.  “How can I talk to him about this?  Everything he’s going through is because of me.  I can't put this on him, too.”

Ezra’s shoulders slumped.  He was suddenly exhausted, the weight of his actions and their consequences crashing down over him, trying to drag him down and drown him.

“Don’t make me tell him,” he said.

“Hey,” Zeb said, his hand coming down on Ezra’s shoulder.  “I won't make you do anything.”

“Promise?” Ezra asked, hating how much he sounded like a little kid.

“Yeah,” Zeb said.  “Promise.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: references to unnamed character death; argument between a child and parental-figure; maladaptive thoughts about guilt and deserving to be hurt; self-injury (cutting)
> 
> This chapter has a description of self-injury that's a little more graphic than in previous chapters. It's at the very end of the chapter, so if you want to skip it, stop after the paragraph that begins with "Ezra barely realized where he was going until he’d reached the boundary" and just skip the rest of the chapter.
> 
> If you think you need to skip the chapter altogether but want to know what happens, leave a comment and I'll reply with a quick summary.

Something felt wrong, and it was hard for Sabine to figure out exactly what it was.  It was like walking into a room where everything had been moved just slightly, not enough to be clearly seen at first glance, but just enough to make her uneasy.

The mission she had just returned from had been a success.  She and her team had rescued three Imperial prisoners in transit to a more secure facility after a nearly-successful escape attempt.  Hera and Commander Sato had said one of them had potentially useful information and had given Sabine command of the extraction mission.

The prisoners had been rescued and brought safely to Atollon.  But the mission had had five casualties, all of them stormtroopers, and four of them dead by Ezra’s hand.  Sabine would be the first to admit that she wasn’t going to be shedding any tears over a few dead bucketheads, but something had felt _wrong._   She wasn’t entirely convinced that each of Ezra’s kills was unavoidable.

It wasn’t that Ezra had seemed to enjoy killing them -- though maybe he did; how would she know? -- but it had felt so…vicious.  She couldn’t even explain why.  She couldn’t sense his thoughts or his emotions the way he could sense other people’s.  Something just didn’t seem right, and it scared her.  Not for herself.  She didn’t think Ezra would hurt her or any member of the crew or any of the other rebels.  But she was scared for him.  She didn’t understand much about the Force or the dark side, but she didn’t need to.  She could see clearly enough that something inside him had changed on Malachor, and it was becoming obvious that it wasn’t something that could be dealt with by trying to get things to return to normal.

After briefing Hera and Commander Sato on the details of what exactly had happened on the mission, leaving her feelings about Ezra's actions out of it, Sabine waited while the two of them ironed out the specifics of what would happen next.  Hera kept glancing over at her and Sabine would immediately avert her eyes, not wanting to look like she was listening in.  Finally, the conversation ended and Hera walked over to Sabine.

“Something you want to tell me?” she asked.

Sabine nodded, her eyes darting around the area.

“Not here,” she said.  This was family business and she didn’t want anyone to overhear.

Hera nodded and they left the base’s main structure together.  Sabine kept her eyes on the ground in front of her.  She’d been so certain about talking to Hera, but now that it was time to actually do it, she hesitated.  She felt like she was betraying Ezra, like she was turning around and telling on him like they were little kids.

“What is it?” Hera asked.

“It’s Ezra,” Sabine said.  “I’m still keeping an eye on him when we work together, and something just feels…off.  He killed four people today and I don’t think he even cares.”

As she said it, it suddenly felt like nothing.  She’d killed stormtroopers before and hadn’t cared as she'd done it.

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head.  “It’s hard to explain, it’s just…it’s more like when he first joined the crew.  Before Kanan started teaching him.”

She stopped in her tracks, growling in frustration at her inability to get the words out in a way that made sense.  The fact that their lives were so dangerous and every member of the crew had to be violent to survive just made it harder.  How could she explain the difference when on the surface, there was so little change?

“It’s okay,” Hera said.  “I think I know what you’re saying.”

“I’m just scared that something is happening that we’re not seeing,” Sabine said.  “And that Ezra’s gonna get himself hurt.”

“We won't let that happen,” Hera told her, putting an arm around Sabine’s shoulders.  “I’ll talk to Kanan.  We’ll think of something.”

“What if he’s turning to the dark side again?” Sabine asked.

“He wouldn’t hurt any of us,” Hera said, tucking a lock of Sabine’s hair back behind her ear.

“I know,” Sabine said.  “But what if -- what if he leaves?”

Her voice broke as she said it.  She hadn’t even realized that was something she was afraid of.  She didn’t want to lose her friend, her little brother, and he didn’t have to get himself hurt or killed for her to lose him.

“Kanan and I would never let him go back to that monster, Sabine,” Hera said.

“How would you even stop him?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Hera said.  “But we won't let anything happen to this family.  I promise.”

* * *

 

Kanan sensed Hera approaching before he heard her footsteps echoing off the metal walls of the ship.  He also sensed her worries buzzing in the air around her like flies swarming around her head.  Kanan stood up and crossed to the door of his cabin, barely giving Hera a chance to knock before he opened it.

“I need to talk to you,” Hera said.

Kanan quickly stepped to the side to let her in.  She crossed the room and sat down on the edge of Kanan’s bunk.

“Sabine and I had a talk today,” she said as Kanan sat down beside her.  “About Ezra.”

Even if Kanan hadn’t sensed her concern in the Force, her tone clearly said that something wrong.

“Something happen on the op today?” he asked, though he got the feeling he already knew the answer.

“Maybe,” Hera said.  “Sabine couldn’t really explain it well, but he said Ezra was…more vicious, I guess.  He killed people when Sabine wasn’t sure he had to.”

Kanan’s guilt clawed its way to the surface as he remembered that darkness he’d felt clinging to Ezra when he’d tracked the kid down at the north edge of the base just weeks ago.  He’d known since he saw Ezra’s eyes on Malachor that something had changed inside of him, and he’d just retreated into his own head and done nothing.  Every time he’d tried to talk to Ezra about it, Ezra had run away and Kanan had just let it happen, almost relieved to avoid facing what had happened to him and to Ezra.

“I think you should talk to him,” Hera said.  “You understand this better than any of us.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Kanan said.  “Every time I’ve tried, I’ve made things worse.  It’s like it hurts him.”

“Kanan,” Hera said, “he’s slipping and he needs you to help him.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Kanan said.  “Or I’ll try, anyway.”

“Didn’t you say something to Ezra about there being no --”

“Don’t,” Kanan said with a smile.

* * *

 

When Ezra returned to the _Ghost_ , he froze when he saw Kanan in the cargo bay, clearly waiting for him.

“Ezra,” Kanan said.  Ezra just shifted nervously where he stood, suddenly feeling like he’d done something wrong.  “Let’s take a walk.”

Ezra followed Kanan off the ship, feeling pretty certain that it hadn’t been a suggestion.  Kanan wasn’t saying anything yet, and it was making Ezra more and more nervous.  He could feel the same anxious flutter in his chest that he’d felt so often as a child.

“Kanan,” he said, forcing himself to speak around the fear.  “Whatever it is you want to talk about, can you just say it?”

Kanan winced, probably realizing what Ezra must be feeling.

“Hera came to talk to me earlier,” he said.  “About the mission today.”

“What about it?” Ezra asked.

“Sabine told her you seemed off,” Kanan said.

“I’m fine,” Ezra said flatly.

“She said you killed four stormtroopers.”

“I did what I had to do,” Ezra said, crossing his arms and glaring pointedly at the ground, a useless gesture when Kanan couldn’t see it.

“Did you?” Kanan asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

"It means did you really have to do it?” Kanan asked.  “Or did you do it because it was easy?”

“I had to,” Ezra said.  “And it _was_ easy.”

“Ezra,” Kanan said, reaching out to put a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, but freezing up and pulling away.  “I know things haven’t been easy for you, and I know that going back to what’s familiar is --”

“You weren’t there, Kanan,” Ezra said, trying to keep his voice calm even as his heart hammered in his chest.

“You’re right,” Kanan said.  “I don’t know exactly what happened.  But I know Sabine thought it was bad enough to tell Hera about.”

“Well, she was wrong,” Ezra said.

“Okay,” Kanan said.  His voice was neutral, but Ezra felt anger flare up in his chest as if Kanan had shouted at him.  “I believe you.”

“No, you don’t,” Ezra said.  “You think I’ve turned, don’t you?”

“Ezra, I don’t think --”

“You’ve made it pretty clear what you think,” Ezra snapped.  He turned on his heel and walked away, ignoring Kanan’s call for him to stop.

His fury grew with each step he took as he stormed away from Kanan.  As hard as he tried to push them away, Maul’s words to him echoed in his head.  _He doesn’t trust you.  He expects you to fail._

And the worst part of it, even worse than knowing that Kanan didn’t trust him, was knowing that it was entirely justified.  He _was_ falling.  He could feel the darkness surging up around him, trying to drag him under and drown him.  He’d thought he was strong enough to fight it, but now he didn’t even _want_ to fight it anymore.  It was familiar to him.  It was _home._   It was strength.  It was the only way he knew, _really_ knew, how to protect his family.

 _Do you even have the right to call them that anymore?_ he asked himself.

He’d betrayed their trust, Kanan’s most of all.  He’d been lying to them for months.  After everything they’d done to save him from Maul and from the dark side, he’d gone back so easily.  And knowing what they’d think when they found out only made Ezra want to retreat farther into the darkness.

Ezra barely realized where he was going until he’d reached the boundary.  He stared at the sensors in front of him.  Part of him wanted to run straight past them and out into the desert.  Let the spiders come after him.  He could handle them.

Ezra slowly sank to his knees, his jaw clenched tight as he tried not to let himself cry a single tear.  He didn’t deserve to cry over this.  It was his fault.  All of it was his fault.

He pressed one hand to the ground, feeling the sand shifting between his fingers.  How had things gotten this bad?  How had he _let_ them get this bad?  How had he screwed up like this?

Some small voice in his head told him not to do it, but Ezra reached automatically into his pocket and drew out of the knife.  The few times he’d actually gone to Zeb for help, he hadn’t said a word about it.  He’d told himself he’d wanted to keep it to prove to himself that he was strong enough not to use it.  But that wasn’t even remotely true.  He’d kept it so he _could_ use it.  Zeb didn’t understand.  He thought Ezra was just hurting himself because of what happened on Malachor.  He didn’t know what Ezra had done to that pilot, what Ezra was doing with the holocron.  He didn’t understand that Ezra was a liar and a traitor to both of his masters.  He didn’t understand that Ezra deserved this.

That thought echoed in his head as he pressed the sharp edge of the knife into the skin of his arm and drew the blade across.  He gasped in pain as blood welled up and flowed from the wound.  Ezra stared at it for a few seconds before drawing the blade over his skin again.

_You deserve this._

Another cut, shallower than the last two.

_You deserve this._

Another cut, deeper to make up for going easy on himself with the last one.

_You deserve this.  You deserve this.  You deserve this._

And he knew he did.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: vague references to past child abuse; argument between a child and parental-figure; reference to past canonical character death (Dicer)

_I see you._

The words rang in Kanan’s ears.  They seemed to come from every direction around him, floating to him across the desert sands.

_Come to me._

“Kanan.”

Kanan was jolted out of his mind by Hera’s voice behind him.

“I was hoping to see you at the briefing,” Hera said.  Kanan didn’t physically flinch, but something in his chest did.  He hadn’t forgotten that Ezra had been leading a rescue mission and that he’d be bringing back valuable intel.  He just…hadn’t been there.  His only excuse, and it was a flimsy one, was that he and Ezra had barely spoken for the past two months, ever since he’d practically accused Ezra of turning to the dark side.

“I hear Ezra’s doing well,” he said, keeping his voice purposefully flat to cover his guilt.

“He has been stepping up,” Hera said.  Kanan could just barely hear her tired sigh.  “He hasn’t been talking about whatever happened between you two, but I think he blames himself for it, and for everything that happened to you and Ahsoka.”

“I don’t,” Kanan said.

“I wish you’d tell him that,” Hera said.  Kanan could hear the sand shifting and crunching under her feet as she walked back toward the base.

 _I wish I **could** tell him that,_ Kanan thought.

He’d withdrawn from Ezra just as much as Ezra had withdrawn from him.  He wanted to make up for what had happened, but he had no idea how.  Every time he’d tried to talk to Ezra about…anything that had happened, he could feel Ezra’s fear like a spike of cold metal being driven into his chest.  Ezra was afraid of something, and Kanan was becoming more and more convinced that his apprentice was hiding something from him.  And he was lost with no idea how to try to get Ezra to open up without scaring him or hurting him even more.

But Kanan knew he had to be the one to take the first step.  That’s how it had always been with Ezra.  No matter how much time and distance had been put between Ezra and his past with Maul, the kid was still too afraid of crossing Kanan to be the one who made the first move to fix things between them.  It stung to know that Ezra avoided him out of fear, but Kanan couldn’t hold it against him.  Kanan would just have to do what he’d always done and try to show Ezra that there was nothing to fear.

* * *

 

Ezra hadn’t expected to see Kanan standing in the doorway to his cabin.  In the two months since they’d fought, they’d barely even spoken to each other.  For the first day, Ezra had hidden from Kanan out of some instinctive fear of punishment for his outburst, but after that, he had just been angry, and had avoided Kanan because he just didn’t want to talk to him.  He didn’t know what was going on in Kanan’s head, deliberately shielding himself from Kanan’s thoughts and feelings, but he could only assume his master was equally angry at him.  Slowly, Ezra’s anger had faded, but he didn’t know how to make things right after such a long time.  And so finding Kanan at his door sent a strange mixture of relief and anxiety flooding through him.

“Kanan,” Ezra said in surprise as the door shut behind his master.  As he leapt down from his bunk, his eyes landed on the holocron.  If Kanan had been able to see it, it would have been in plain view.

“What are you doing here?” Ezra asked, trying to keep his voice calm as he casually stepped forward, reaching for the holocron.  He pulled back as Kanan stepped toward him, leaning against the table and putting himself between Ezra and the holocron.  Ezra’s eyes stayed fixed on the object.  Did Kanan know it was there?  Could he sense it, or was the holocron somehow masking its presence from him?

“I think it’s time for us to talk,” Kanan said.

“Now’s not a good time,” Ezra said quickly.  “I’ve been assigned a really important mission.”

“Yeah,” Kanan said.  There was something in his voice Ezra couldn’t name.  “I’ve heard.”

Kanan rested his hand on the surface behind him and Ezra froze as it brushed up against the holocron.  Ezra couldn’t do anything but stand there as Kanan reached behind him and picked the object up, clearly recognizing it once he held it in his hand.

“The Sith holocron?” he asked.  His other hand ran along the holocron’s edge until he felt one of the corners twisted out of place.  “You opened it?”

“Yeah,” Ezra said quietly, staring down at the floor in front of him.

“Ezra, you know how dangerous this is,” Kanan said, “especially for you.”

“The things I’ve learned from it have really helped me,” Ezra said.

“You’re _using_ it?”

Anger flared up in Ezra’s chest.  What else was he supposed to do?  Kanan had barely been present since Malachor.  Ezra had had no one to teach him or help him become strong enough to stop something like what Maul had done to Kanan from happening to anyone else.  Why did Kanan think things could suddenly go back to normal and he could judge Ezra for what he’d done to protect himself and his family?  _Their_ family.

“Everything I’ve learned has helped me win one battle after another,” Ezra said.  “I’m using it for good!”

“Acting out of anger offers quick results, but it’s a trap,” Kanan said.  "You  _know_ that."

“I know what I’m doing!” Ezra snapped.

Kanan’s hand tightened around the holocron and for a second, Ezra’s anger was overwhelmed by fear.

“I can’t let you keep this,” Kanan said, turning away and walking toward the door.

“Fine,” Ezra said.  “I don’t need it.  Just like I don’t need you.”

Kanan paused in the doorway, his shoulders tensing up for a moment before he walked away.

* * *

 

Kanan clutched the Sith holocron tightly in his hand as he wandered out toward his usual meditation spot near the _Ghost_.  How had he not seen this coming?  He’d barely given any thought to what had actually happened to the Sith holocron.  He’d known Ezra had it with him when they escaped Malachor.  He should have realized that Ezra was using it.

He had been so afraid of failing as a rebel and as a member of the crew that he’d failed as Ezra’s master and as his…did he really have the right to think of himself as Ezra’s father now?  After not even doing the bare minimum to keep him safe?  He knew he couldn’t protect Ezra from everything, but he should have been able to protect him from _this_.

_I can help you._

That voice echoed in Kanan’s head again, calling out to him from across the desert.  He reached out toward it, not an easy task when the voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.  He could feel something alive, sentient, and powerful, something that felt so much like the planet itself that its presence was barely distinguishable from it.

“Where are you?” Kanan asked.  “ _Who_ are you?”

_Come to me._

Kanan stepped forward, his hand closing around one of the sensors on the boundary.  He carefully detached the main component and stepped over the line.  As he moved forward slowly and cautiously, he heard krykna -- he didn’t know how many; more than two, but he couldn’t be sure of the exact number -- frantically scurrying away from the sensor and its repulsive frequency.

He could feel a slight pull in his chest, under his heart, like something was trying to lead him somewhere.  He honed his focus in on that feeling, letting it guide him forward.  As he walked, he heard something behind him, the telltale skittering sound of a krykna moving across the sand.  His grip tightened around the sensor and he picked up his pace.

He didn’t know how long he’d been walking when he felt that pulling sensation in his chest vanish.  For a moment, he stood perfectly still as he tried to figure out if it meant he was where he needed to be or he’d lost his connection to whatever had led him away from the base.  He reached out through the Force, searching for…something, he didn’t know what.  He felt it, not far from where he stood.  That same living, sentient presence that almost felt like the planet.  It was much stronger now that he was closer.

Kanan stepped forward to find the ground becoming more uneven beneath his feet, lowering into a small dip in the ground.  As he carefully made his way down the slope, he could feel that presence growing stronger, surrounding him.  This was the place.

“Hello?” he called.  “Are you there?  I can sense your presence.”

He heard something shifting, bigger and louder than the spiders, and felt heavy vibrations in the ground beneath his feet.  Something was rising up from the ground.  Something big.

“You heard my call.”  The voice was the same one that had echoed in Kanan’s head, now crashing over him from whatever being had seemingly just emerged from the ground.  “Your imbalance woke me from a deep slumber.”

“Imbalance?” Kanan asked.

“Your presence is like a violent storm in this quiet world,” the voice said.  Even though he was now face-to-face with the being, and the voice was a physical sound, it still seemed to echo in Kanan's head as if it was still calling out to him from across the desert.

“You’re a Force-wielder,” Kanan said, the pieces falling together in his mind.  “But you’re not a Jedi.”

“Wielder?” the being asked.  “Jedi and Sith wield the Ashla and Bogan, the light and the dark.  I’m the one in the middle; the Bendu.  What do you call yourself?”

“Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight.”  The words felt hollow as he said them.

“You carry conflict with you, Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight,” the being that called itself Bendu said.

Kanan’s hand tightened around the holocron.

“It’s this,” he said.

“Interesting,” Bendu said with a soft chuckle, as soft as any sound made by such a large being could be.

Kanan felt the holocron float up out of his hand as the being he was speaking to examined it.

“Careful,” he said.  “It’s --”

He felt a shift in the air, as if a heavy fog had rolled across the desert, and he knew instinctively that the holocron had opened.

“-- dangerous,” he said with a sigh.

“How so?”

“It’s a Sith holocron,” Kanan said.  “A source of evil.  My student’s been using it and it’s…it’s changing him.”

 _Changing him back,_ he thought.

“An object cannot make you good or evil,” Bendu said.  “Only you can change yourself.”

“Not always,” Kanan said.  He couldn’t change what had happened to him.  Ezra had tried so hard to change what Maul had turned him into, but he couldn’t do it on his own.

“Ah,” Bendu said, as if he’d been waiting for Kanan to say that.  “Your conflict becomes clear.  That device in the ground, why do you have it?”

“It keeps the spiders from attacking me,” Kanan said.

“May I see it?”

Kanan nodded and a moment later, he heard the metallic scrape of the sensor being pulled out of the sand.  A loud _snap_ flashed through the air, followed by the crackle of electricity and the sound of two metal objects hitting the ground.  Two pieces of the sensor.

“What did you do?!” Kanan shouted.  Panic burst through him as he reached out, feeling for the broken pieces, straining his ears to listen for the sound of the spiders approaching.  “It was the only thing protecting me from those creatures!”

“You believe that,” Bendu said, his voice so calm it made Kanan furious.  “But you must learn to see things differently now.”

“Look,” Kanan said, barely able to keep his anger and frustration in check, “I can’t see _anything_.  Not anymore.”

He couldn’t see the being he was speaking to.  He couldn’t see the faces of his family or his friends.  He couldn’t see that Ezra had been using the holocron.  He couldn’t see anything, not even things that should have been obvious to him whether he had use of his eyes or not.

“No,” Bendu said.  “You are unwilling.”

“Are you saying there’s a way to restore my vision?” Kanan asked.  It couldn’t be true.  He’d been told the damage was permanent, and a burn from a lightsaber across his eyes at such close quarters…not even the best Jedi healers would have been able to save them.

“Your sight cannot be healed,” Bendu told him.  “But I can teach you to see, if you’re willing.”

There had been blind Jedi, Kanan knew.  They’d learned to rely on their other senses and to feel their surroundings in the Force much more precisely than Kanan was able to.  He’d never known exactly how they did it.  Like every other Jedi in the Temple, Kanan had trained while blindfolded, using the Force to perceive his surroundings, but it wasn’t the same as being truly, permanently blind.  He’d never thought to learn how blind Jedi experienced the world around them.  It had never crossed his mind that it was something he might need to know one day.

Kanan reached up, removing the mask that covered his eyes.

“What must I do?” he asked.

“You must be empty,” Bendu told him.  “There is only the Force.  Now, turn and walk forward.”

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” Kanan muttered as he turned around, holding out one hand in front of him as he moved.

“Why not?”

“Because those spiders are out there,” Kanan said.  Maybe Bendu wasn’t afraid of the spiders, but at the very least he had to see they were dangerous.

“How do you know this?”

Kanan sighed.  “I hear them,” he said.

“Sound relates them to you,” Bendu said, and Kanan realized the question was part of the lesson.  “What else?”

“I can feel them in the ground,” Kanan said.  “There are vibrations when they move.”

“You are perceptive,” Bendu said.  “Are they close?”

Kanan stopped walking.  He listened, he reached out with his mind, he planted his feet firmly, feeling for the strength of the spiders’ movements across the ground.

“No,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure.  There were so many of them that pinpointing individuals and how close they were was difficult at best.

“Continue on, then,” Bendu told him.

Kanan hesitated before he kept moving, still not entirely convinced.

“How else do you relate to the spiders?” Bendu asked.

“In the caves,” Kanan said.  “A foul smell.  It was old.  Decayed.”

 _The smell of death,_ he thought, but didn’t say.

“You see much for being blind,” Bendu said.

“Well, I know what they look like,” Kanan said.  “I saw them, when I had my sight.”

“Then picture them in your mind,” Bendu said.  “Are they close?”

“No,” Kanan said.

“Are you certain?”

Suddenly, Kanan wasn’t certain at all.  He reached out one hand slowly, his heart pounding as he reached into a void of space he couldn’t see, not knowing what was in front of him but knowing he could easily be making a fatal mistake.  His palm touched something hard and cold, like stone.  A spider’s exoskeleton.

Kanan backed away quickly as the spider let out a furious _hiss_.

“What should I do?” he asked.

“What do you want to do?” Bendu asked.

“Run,” Kanan said.  He was about to do exactly that when he heard the telltale sound of another spider skittering across the sand.  “But there’s another one right behind me.”

“Now you are beginning to see,” Bendu said.  “Now, be empty and continue onward.”

Kanan didn’t understand how Bendu could think it was that easy.  The spiders could rip a human to pieces.  In fact, they _should_ be trying to do that right now.

“Why aren’t they attacking?” he asked.

“It is not in their nature,” Bendu said.

Kanan could have laughed at that if he wasn’t currently surrounded by the creatures that had eaten one of their pilots.

“It has been in my experience,” Kanan said.

“Because you do not see them.”

“You mean see them for what they are,” Kanan said, finally beginning to understand.

“Look closer,” Bendu said.  “Look within.”

“I see…” Kanan’s instinct was to reach out, but he forced himself to withdraw and turn inward.  He felt it, twisted around in knots in his chest, tangling together like weeds choking out the other plants around them.  “…fear.”

“In the spiders?”  Kanan barely heard Bendu’s voice, focused as he was on that tangled web of fear and pain.

“Ezra,” he said.  “He’s in danger.”

The spider in front of him let out a loud _hiss_ and Kanan pulled away, his hand flying to his lightsaber, drawing the weapon and igniting it in one quick motion.  The spider lunged forward and Kanan fought back against his instinct to run, knowing the other one was still directly behind him, blocking his path.

That tangle of fear writhed inside his chest as if something had woken it up and Kanan realized…he realized…

“It’s not Ezra,” he said.  “Or the spiders.  It’s me.”

Slowly, Kanan lowered his weapon.

“That’s how they see me,” he said, the knowledge weighing heavily in his chest.  “It’s…it’s how I see myself.”

“Your sight returns,” Bendu said with a laugh.  “Your connection to the Force allows you to see in ways others cannot.  If you can see yourself, you will never be truly blind, Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight.”

“I understand,” Kanan said.  And he did.  Finally, after six months of desperately searching for a way to process his new reality, Kanan understood.

Steeling himself for what he knew he had to do, Kanan began to walk forward again, directly toward a spider that skittered out of his way, even without the sensor in his hand.

“Where are you going?” Bendu asked him.

“Ezra needs me,” Kanan said.  “They all do.”

“And what of this?” Bendu asked.

For a moment, Kanan froze, confused by the question, until he felt it again.  That darkness permeating the air.  The Sith holocron.

“Keep it,” Kanan said.  No matter what Bendu said about an object not making you good or evil, Kanan still felt that the farther he could keep that thing away from Ezra, the better.

* * *

 

Hera glanced at the chronometer again.  She’d given them a few extra minutes.  Ezra in particular wasn’t the best at doing things precisely on time and it wasn’t unusual for him to miss check-in intervals by a short amount of time.  But on a high-stakes op like this, she didn’t want to take any chances by waiting for him to realize and call in himself.

She quickly tapped into the frequency the team for this mission was using.  It was a recon mission.  What could they be doing that would have made them late, anyway?  Ezra answered almost immediately.

“Ghost to Spectre Six,” she said.  “You missed check-in.”

Then she heard it.  The sound of blaster fire, and of a lightsaber deflecting it.

“Where are you?” she asked.

 _"Still in the Yarma system,”_ Ezra said.  Hera wondered if he even realized he used that tone when he was trying to cover something up.  _“Getting some great recon.  No time to talk.  Bridger, out.”_

Hera sighed as Ezra ended the transmission.  Of all the times for Ezra to go rogue.

“It appears Commander Bridger’s recon mission has turned into a recovery operation,” Commander Sato said.

“Sir, we’d better mobilize the fleet,” Hera said.

She rushed back to the _Ghost_ , hitting a switch to close the cargo bay’s main hatch the second she was inside.  She hauled herself up the ladder and ran for the cockpit.  As she opened the door, she stopped for a second, caught off guard when she saw Kanan already there, waiting.

“Ezra’s in trouble,” Kanan said.  “Let’s go.”

Hera could help but smile as she sat down and began the ship’s startup sequence.

“When is he not in trouble?” she asked.

As the ship lifted off, she glanced over at Kanan again.

“What changed?” she asked.

“It’s a long story,” Kanan said.  “And I promise I’ll tell you, but right now, let’s go get our boy.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: references to death

If Kanan were there, he’d say the mission wasn’t a failure _yet_.  If Hera were there, she’d say it was time to cut their losses and retreat.  That was how bad it had gotten.

Sabine clung to the hull of a Y-Wing bomber as a dismantler droid tried to pry it loose from the station’s conveyor and send it plummeting into the atmosphere below, and her and Zeb with it.  Just as Sabine was about to tell Zeb to jump and save himself, the mechanical arm of a crane slammed into the droid, knocking it to the side.

“You want some more, you lousy clanker?” she heard Rex shout.  The arm swung around again.  The droid caught it this time and was swung up and away from the Y-Wing that hung precariously from the station.

“Come on,” Zeb said as the bomber swung beneath their combined weight.  “Climb!”

The more they moved, the more the bomber moved, too, but it was that or wait for it to fall, which it absolutely would.  It was just barely still on the station.  As she and Zeb hauled themselves up the ship’s hull, Rex appeared above them, reaching down to pull them up.

Once she and Rex were on solid…metal, not ground, again, Sabine glanced around.  There were still five bombers left.  They could still salvage the mission, just as long as Ezra was having better luck inside the control room than they were having out here.

* * *

 

Two stormtroopers opened fire as soon as Ezra entered the control room.  Ezra raised his lightsaber, easily deflecting the blaster bolts back at the troopers, who fell to the ground, killed by their own fire.  All that remained were four officers, three of whom fled the room as soon as the stormtroopers’ bodies hit the ground.  The one who stayed behind stared at Ezra incredulously.

“You?” he asked.  It took Ezra a second to remember.

“You?” Ezra said with a smile.  “Last time we met, you were captain of a top-secret Star Destroyer.  Now you run a junkyard?”

“Your capture and execution will mean my return to ranking status,” the officer said.

“Yeah, get ready for another demotion,” Ezra said.

The officer drew his blaster and fired.  Ezra deflected the blast, forcing the officer to duck to avoid getting hit, and reached out through the Force, pulling the weapon from the man’s hand and slashing his blade through it as it flew toward him.

Before the officer could get back to his feet, Ezra stepped forward, holding his glowing red blade to the man’s throat.

“Unlock those bombers,” Ezra said.  “Now.”

“I’ve sabotaged the control unit,” the officer said.  “The only way to unlock the bombers is to cut power to the entire station.”

Ezra glanced over his shoulder at the station’s main power generator.  It should be easy enough to disable.

“Okay,” he said, taking a step back and walking toward the generator.

“If you cut the power, the station will fall,” the officer warned him.  “You would doom us and your friends for a few old ships?”

“My friends will be fine,” Ezra said.  With one quick motion, he slashed his blade through the generator.  “You, not so much.”

* * *

 

As Rex used the crane to haul the bomber Sabine and Zeb had been clinging to back onto the station, the metal beneath their feet shook violently.  Seconds later, the locks holding the other ships in place opened one after the other.

“The kid did it,” Zeb said, as if he’d doubted Ezra’s plan would work.

Sabine hit a button on her wrist comm.

“Spectre Six, what was that blast?” she asked.  “What did you do?”

_“I cut the station’s power,”_ Ezra said.  _“Get in the Y-Wings and go.  I’ll get out on the_ Phantom. _”_

Ezra ended the transmission, cutting off Sabine from her chance to say _you did what?!_   She settled for a muttered “dammit, Ezra” as she rushed to one of the ships.

* * *

 

As Ezra ran, his commlink flashed and Sabine’s voice came through.

_“Spectre Six, the Empire is here in orbit,”_ she said.  _“We’re in big trouble.”_

Ezra didn’t get a chance to respond before the metal platform shifted beneath his feet and he began to side down it.  He grabbed onto one of the support beams beneath it, which was still intact, and hauled himself up onto it.  The station shook again as another small explosion was triggered somewhere.

As Ezra watched, a crane fell from beside the conveyor, catching on the _Phantom_ and prying the ship away from where it was docked on the underside of the station.  Ezra realized what was about to happen just before it did.  With a loud, creaking groan, the _Phantom_ was pulled free and fell into the atmosphere below.

His friends were in space, surrounded by Imperial forces, and he was trapped down here with no way off the station as it began to fall.  He’d thought he could keep everyone safe.  He was _supposed_ to keep everyone safe.  But he’d walked Sabine, Zeb, Chopper, and Rex into a death trap.

As the metal groaned and buckled under his feet again and the station began to truly drop from the sky, Ezra clung to the beam, even knowing it was pointless.  This fall would kill him.  There was no way around that.  The station would fall and Ezra would die and…

And the last thing he had said to Kanan was _I don’t need you._

He did need Kanan.  He needed Kanan now and he had needed Kanan before, and he would never get a chance to say that.

“Kanan, where are you?” Ezra called out, even knowing there was no way his master would hear him.  His last memory of Ezra would be of Ezra pushing him away and rejecting him.  Ezra’s last memory of him in the few moments he had left was of Kanan’s anger.

The wind tore at Ezra’s skin like a knife as the station picked up speed as it fell.

“I need you,” Ezra muttered, unable to even hear his own voice over the roaring of the wind around him.  “Kanan, I need you.”

_I’m here._

He could feel Kanan’s presence like a burning, brilliant light, cutting through the fear closing in around Ezra’s mind.  Seconds later, the _Ghost_ emerged from the clouds, and there, framed by the open airlock, was Kanan, one hand reaching out toward Ezra.

“Kanan?” Ezra called, stretching out one hand even as he clung to the station with all his might.  “I can’t reach you!”

“It’s okay!” Kanan shouted back over the wind.  “I’ve got you!  Let go!”

Ezra couldn’t afford to hesitate.  He didn’t have the time to think it through.  He let go of his grip on the beam and reached for Kanan.  Their hands just missed each other and for a second, Ezra was sure this was it.  That was his chance and he’d missed it.  And then Kanan reached up, his hand closing around Ezra’s wrist, dragging him back toward the ship with all his strength.

Kanan pulled Ezra through the door and slammed the button to seal the airlock just before the two of them collapsed to the floor.

“I’ve got him!” Kanan called.

As the ship banked heavily away from the falling station, Kanan grabbed Ezra again, pulling him close to his chest, his arms tight around the boy like he was never going to let him go again.  Ezra returned Kanan’s embrace, burying his face into his master’s shoulder.  He felt Kanan softly kiss his forehead just before his arms tightened around Ezra even more.

“I’m so sorry, Ezra,” Kanan said, his voice breaking.

“You didn’t do anything,” Ezra said, his voice muffled by Kanan’s shoulder.

“Yes, I did,” Kanan said.  “I let you down and I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Ezra said.  “I’m sorry I -- I failed you, Kanan.”

“No,” Kanan said.  “Never.”

* * *

 

When they reached Atollon, night had fallen over the planet.  Kanan had offered to stay with Ezra while he was debriefed by Hera and Commander Sato, but Ezra had told him to go, saying he’d find him after.

Hera had been equal parts angry with him and relieved to see all of them still alive and relatively unscathed, and Ezra couldn’t blame her.  He’d disobeyed orders and nearly gotten his team killed because he didn’t think his entire plan through before acting on it.  Hera had suspended his command and told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t even going to be deployed on any missions unless she or Kanan would be there, too.

Her anger was undercut by her laying a hand on Ezra’s shoulder and giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze just before he left.

He found Kanan near the _Ghost_ , standing in the same place where Ezra had so often seen him meditating.  As Ezra walked up beside his master, Kanan slid an arm around his shoulders, like he was afraid to let go of him again.  Ezra leaned into it, finally letting himself take comfort from Kanan’s presence again.

“I should’ve told you I was using the Sith holocron,” he said.  “I thought it could help, but I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“You thought you were doing the right thing,” Kanan said.  “Sometimes when we try to do the right thing, we make mistakes.”

“What did you do with it, anyway?” Ezra asked, his curiosity momentarily getting the better of him.

“It’s safe,” Kanan said.

For a moment, they just stood there, each of them deep in their own thoughts, drawing comfort from each other without needing to talk.  Until Ezra remembered.

“Kanan,” he said.  “I didn’t mean what I said.  I’ll always need you.”

“One day you won't,” Kanan said, his arm tightening around Ezra’s shoulders for a moment.  “That’ll mean I did my job right.”

Ezra shook his head.  There might come a day when he didn’t need Kanan to teach him or protect him anymore, but Kanan was his family, and Ezra would always need him.

“I will,” Ezra said.  “Always.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: self-injury (cutting)

Ezra glanced beside him at Kanan as they moved in unison.  They weren’t sparring.  Neither of them was ready for that yet.  But _finally_ , they were training together, just like they used to.

_Well,_ Ezra thought, _not **just** like we used to._

Nothing would ever be the same between them again.  What Maul had done to Kanan was bad enough, but if it had just been Kanan being blinded, maybe things between them could have been salvaged.  But those six months of distance and pain had caused damage so deep that Ezra wasn’t sure he could ever make up for it.

Kanan lowered his lightsaber, switching the blade off.

“Let’s take a break,” he said.

“Are you okay?” Ezra asked, deactivating his own weapon.

“I’m fine,” Kanan said.  “We’ve been at this for a while.  Taking a break is a good thing.”

“I _know_ that,” Ezra said, rolling his eyes.  “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“I’m really okay,” Kanan said, resting his hand on Ezra’s shoulder.

Ezra covered Kanan’s hand with his and held on for a moment.  He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Kanan’s small, comforting touches until they had started again after so many months without them.

The moment was over too fast as Ezra pulled away from Kanan and sat down on the _Ghost’s_ lowered ramp.  As Kanan sat down beside him, Ezra lightly kicked at the sand under his feet.

“What’s it like?” he asked.  “Seeing with the Force?  I mean, not _seeing_ , but -- you know.”

“It’s hard to describe,” Kanan said.  “I still feel things in the Force, like you do, it’s just…in more detail.  I’ve had to learn how to sense things that don’t have life forces.”

He held out a hand toward Ezra.

“I could try to show you,” he said.

Ezra hesitated for a moment before taking Kanan’s hand.  For a second, nothing happened, and Ezra wondered if what Kanan was trying to do was even possible. Then a strange sensation flooded through his mind.  He could sense everything around him but he couldn’t tell what any of it was.  The only way he was able to recognize Kanan was from Kanan’s hand clutched in his.  He could feel things farther away than he could see with his own eyes, farther than Kanan ever could have seen.  It surrounded him, overwhelming his Force sense.

He pulled his hand away from Kanan’s, his shoulders jumping up defensively as his senses returned to normal.

“You okay?” Kanan asked.

“How?” Ezra asked.  “It’s --”

“I’ve had time to get used to it,” Kanan said.  “And I guess it’s…different for me.  My senses aren’t as heightened as yours.”

“I’m sorry,” Ezra said.  “For everything that’s happened.  I should’ve been there for you while you were --”

“That’s not your job,” Kanan said, shaking his head.  “You don’t need to take care of me, Ezra.  I’m the one who should’ve been there for you, and I’m so sorry that I wasn’t.”

Ezra leaned against Kanan’s shoulder as Kanan slid an arm around him.

“I missed you,” Ezra said.

“I missed you, too,” Kanan said.

Even as Ezra let the warmth of Kanan’s touch wrap around him, he felt guilt clawing away inside his chest.  He’d pushed Kanan away in the first place.  Kanan had withdrawn from him, but would he have done that if Ezra hadn’t been so intent on avoiding him in the first place?

As if he knew exactly what Ezra was thinking, Kanan tightened his arm around Ezra’s shoulders.  For just a moment, the guilt and pain and darkness was kept at bay.

* * *

 

Ezra lay awake that night, staring up at the ceiling, too many feelings and thoughts crashing together in his mind.  The guilt that Kanan had managed to drive back had returned, and the ever-present ache in his chest that had been there since his return from Yarma felt like it was going to crack him open.  He slowly reached under his pillow, his hand closing around the knife.  He hadn’t known where else to hide it where no one would find it.  He clutched it tightly for a moment, then began to let go.  As he did, that ache in his chest grew deeper.  He felt something pulling at him from the inside, and for a moment, he wondered if the holocron, wherever Kanan had hidden it, was still calling to him.  But it wasn’t quite the same.  It was more familiar, more personal, like…

“No,” he whispered.  “Leave me alone.”  _Haven’t you done enough?_

He wondered why Maul was reaching out now, and if it was even really him.  Maybe he was just imagining it.

_Ezra._

“Stop,” Ezra muttered.  “Please.”

But the feeling wouldn’t go away.  It wasn’t aggressive or painful, but it was persistent, and with each passing second, the dull ache in his chest grew stronger.  It took him a moment to recognize the feeling for what it was.  Homesickness.

The moment he realized what it was, Ezra’s hand closed around the knife again, pulling it from beneath his pillow.  He drew the knife across his arm without even thinking about it; anything to make that deep, painful feeling of _I want to go home_ stop.  He gasped quietly as the knife stung across his skin, then froze as he heard Zeb shifting on the lower bunk.  He didn’t move, barely even daring to breathe as he waited to see if Zeb had woken up.

After a few minutes that felt like hours, Ezra slowly returned the knife to its hiding place.  He didn’t sleep that night, instead staring at the ceiling above him, his hand pressed over the fresh wound on his arm, trying in vain to fight off that relentless call and the desperate homesickness that came with it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: discussion of self-injury; hypothetical mention of suicide

Ezra chewed lightly on the second knuckle of his index finger, his other hand flapping at his side as he walked up the ramp back to the _Ghost_.  He wanted to turn around and run, and there was only one thing stopping him.  Kanan and Hera were waiting for him in the galley, where he’d asked them to meet him.  If he didn’t show up, one of them would ask him why, and he’d have to tell them then, so he might as well tell them now, on his terms.

As Ezra made his way to the galley, something in his chest felt heavier with each step he took.  As he approached the door, he could hear Kanan and Hera’s quiet voices behind it, too low for him to understand what they were saying.  As he opened the door, they fell silent.  For a second, Ezra froze up, trying to look anywhere but at them.

“Ezra, what’s wrong?” Kanan asked.  Ezra was sure he’d have sensed something was wrong even without the use of the Force.

“There’s --” he took a breath, trying to steady his hands as they began to shake, and forced himself to keep talking before he lost his nerve.  “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Hera cast a worried glance at Kanan and winced as her green eyes met his pale, scarred ones, as she reminded herself that he couldn’t see that instinctive gesture anymore.  Seeing it, Ezra felt a knot form in his stomach and he wanted to run from the room.  But he forced himself to step forward and sit down across from them.

“Whatever it is, you can tell us,” Kanan said, his voice tinged with guilt.

“It’s -- I --” Ezra looked down and swallowed nervously.  He almost wished he’d asked Zeb to come with him and tell them instead.  But he had to do it.  It had to be him.  Still, sitting there, with Kanan and Hera’s faces turned toward him expectantly, Ezra couldn’t help but feel painfully alone and conspicuous.

“I, um…I was,” Ezra stopped and took another deep breath.  Kanan and Hera waited patiently.  Years of living with him and Sabine had taught them that the words would come when they came and couldn’t be rushed.

“A while ago,” he said slowly, choosing his words with care, “well, not that long ago, I guess, I was -- I started h--hurting myself.”  The last two words came out as a low whisper, like the air had been ripped from his lungs as he spoke them.  His throat was suddenly dry and his palms were drenched with sweat.  He slowly began to rock where he sat.

“What do you mean?” Hera asked, her voice even slower than his.

“I was -- I --” he clenched his hands into fists, trying to stop them from shaking again.  Slowly, he unclenched them and pulled up his sleeves, exposing the scars that covered his arms.  He ducked his head as he heard Hera quietly gasp.

“I was burning myself and cutting myself,” he said, partly for Kanan’s benefit and partly because he _needed_ to finally say it out loud.

“Ezra --”

“I’m sorry!” he said quickly, suddenly desperate to avoid…something, he wasn’t sure what.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t --”

“We’re not mad,” Hera said.  “I promise, we’re not.”

Ezra pulled his sleeves down again, covering his arms as he stared down at the table in front of him.

“How long has it been since the last time?” Hera asked, her voice soft, like she was deliberately trying not to scare him.

“A couple weeks,” he said, still not looking at her.  “It was a few days after Yarma.”

He left out the part where it had been just hours after Kanan had shown him what “seeing” through the Force was like.  He didn’t want to give Kanan any reason to think _he_ was to blame for this.

Ezra finally looked up, his gaze turning to Kanan, who hadn’t said anything.  He couldn’t sense anything happening in his master’s mind, like Kanan was intentionally masking his thoughts.

“Kanan,” he said, “I -- I’m sorry.”

“I’m not angry,” Kanan said.  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes, I did,” Ezra muttered, looking down and averting his gaze again.

“Ezra, no,” Hera said.  “It’s not -- this isn’t _wrong_.  You were --”

“I’m not talking about that,” Ezra said.

“The holocron,” Kanan said.

Ezra couldn’t say anything, feeling like his throat was closing up.  He could only manage a quiet “mhm,” his breath catching in his throat.  Fear and pain and anger rose up inside him like bile and almost before he realized it, he stood up and ran.

* * *

 

Ezra bolted from the room so fast that neither Kanan nor Hera had a chance to tell him to stop.  Hera stared down at the table’s surface.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice,” she said.  Even seeing the scars covering Ezra’s arms, it was so hard for her to wrap her head around it.  Ezra had been hurting himself for months and she’d never realized.  Worse, she’d thought he was _okay._

“I feel the same way,” Kanan said, his hand reaching out to cover hers.

“Kanan, you’ve been…” she gave a heavy sigh.  “You just went blind.  You’ve had so much to adjust to.”

“I know,” Kanan said.  “But if I had just been there for Ezra when he needed me, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.  But I was too wrapped up in what happened to me.”

“And I was too wrapped up in…everything else,” Hera muttered.  At least Kanan had an excuse, even if he didn’t think it was good enough.

For a moment, silence fell between them as they each sank into their own thoughts.  It was Hera who finally spoke again.

“He was so scared to tell us,” Hera said.  “Trusting us was so hard for him and now when he really needed our help, he couldn’t ask for it.  That’s on us, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Kanan said.  “And I’m not letting Ezra down like that again.”

* * *

 

Ezra stared out across the sand as he sat in Kanan’s usual meditation spot behind the _Ghost_.  He knew someone would find him here eventually, but he wasn’t actually trying to hide this time.

He heard footsteps behind him and he didn’t need to look to know it was Kanan.  He didn’t say a word as Kanan sat down beside him.

“Ezra,” Kanan said after a moment of silence that was much less uncomfortable than Ezra had expected it to be.  “I’m sorry.  I can't even begin to imagine how hard things have been for you since Malachor, and I should have been there for you.  If I had, maybe you wouldn’t have felt like you had to do this.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Ezra said quietly, absently running one finger over a scar on his forearm left by a deep cut from the knife.  He could feel Kanan about to say something, but quickly cut him off before he could.

“It was Maul’s,” Ezra said.  “He’s the reason I’m like this.  It’s his fault.”

Kanan slid an arm around Ezra’s shoulders.

“You don’t know how glad I am that you know that,” he said.

But no matter what he said to Kanan, Ezra felt the real truth weighing on his shoulders.  It might be Maul who had set this chain of events in motion, but that didn’t mean Ezra didn’t deserve the pain he’d inflicted on himself.

“Ezra,” Kanan said, snapping him out of his thoughts.  “When you were hurting yourself, were you ever trying to kill yourself?”

Ezra shook his head.  The silence that fell between the two of them was painful, anxious, and expectant, like Kanan was waiting for something, until Ezra realized…

“No,” he said, out loud this time.  “I didn’t want to die, I just wanted…I don’t know.”

He put his arms around Kanan’s middle, burrowing against his side.

“It’s okay,” Kanan said, his other arm coming up and wrapping around Ezra, holding him tight.

“It’s not,” Ezra muttered.  “Kanan, I -- I did something bad.”

“It’s okay,” Kanan said again.  “I got rid of the holocron.  It won't happen again.”

“It’s not that,” Ezra said.  “I -- I hurt someone.”

“Is that why you --”

“Yes,” Ezra said, his voice breaking.

“Ezra, listen to me,” Kanan said, his arms tightening around his padawan, “there’s nothing you could have done that would make you deserve this.”

Ezra just leaned his forehead against Kanan’s shoulder, not bothering to argue, knowing Kanan wouldn’t understand unless he told him what he’d done.  And he didn’t know if he could do that yet.

“Can I ask you something?” Kanan asked, one hand moving to the back of Ezra’s head, running through his hair.  It felt so strange to feel Kanan doing that with his hair so short.

“Sure,” Ezra said.

“What do your eyes look like now?”

“Still mostly blue,” Ezra said.  “Mostly.”

Kanan was quiet for a moment, and Ezra was torn between desperately wanting to know what his master was thinking and being afraid to find out.

“It’ll be okay, Ezra,” Kanan finally said.  “We’ll get through this, and I promise I’ll do better.”


End file.
